


If I Could See Your Face Once More

by shireness



Series: 5B Divergence [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Major Character doesn't stay dead but better tagged than sorry, Season 5B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: This time, there's no celebration at Granny's when the latest crisis has been resolved. Instead, they're left to deal with the body of Killian Jones.A 5B canon divergence where Killian dies in Camelot, never becoming a Dark One.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is - my contribution to CS March Madness 2019! I started writing this way back in the spring of 2017, before I even started posting fic, but then it kind of spun out of control and languished in my WIP folder for two years. 
> 
> Anyways, one thing you should know about me is that I really hate how 5B played out. So much. Why that ridiculous Hades/Zelena stuff? This was supposed to be about saving Killian. I don't get it. So I wrote this instead, which started as Captain Cobra feelings and turned into so many other things. I hope you like it!
> 
> Title taken from the Kodaline song that gave me the feelings in the first place ("All I Want"). Thanks to @snidgetsafan for her beta duties. Rated T for language.

This time, there’s no celebration at Granny’s when the latest crisis is has been resolved.

There’s just Emma, re-forging Excalibur with shaking hands to trap what’s left of the Dark One inside the blade, removing it from a human vessel once and for all.

Then, of course, they’re left to deal with the body of Killian Jones.

\------

When Killian steps off the boat into the Underworld, it’s a small consolation to see Liam waiting at the docks for him.

It’s somehow fitting that the first words he hears from his brother in nearly three hundred years are “Little brother!” as he smiles sadly and pulls Killian into a fierce hug. And even if Killian tosses back a half-hearted “younger…”, he can’t help but squeeze even tighter, just to savor this reunion.

When the two finally break apart, it’s Liam who speaks first.

“I’ve been waiting so long for you, Killian. I can’t tell you how good it is to see your face again.”

“I know, believe me, I know,” he replies, before realizing something. “How did you know I was coming?”

Liam looks a bit sheepish and moves to scratch behind his ear in the same way Killian does (the same way Emma calls “adorable”). “Ah, well… you see, the captain’s log aboard the Jewel has kept me apprised of your life up above - the most painful moments, to be precise. A form of penance, I suppose. When the entries cut off abruptly after you got hurt in that swordfight, though, I got worried. So when a new house appeared down here... I couldn’t resist going to check it out,  just in case it was yours. ”

Killian knows immediately which one he’s talking about. “Grey Victorian? Tower room?”

“That’s the one. I walked in, saw pictures of you and your lovely wife, and figured one of you would be showing up in the next couple of days. Even if it was your lady instead of yourself, I thought I should still check in on her and find out how you were doing.”

Killian’s heart sinks as soon as he hears the word “wife”. He hates to disillusion Liam of this idea that he’s been living some idyllic life, but it will hurt too much in the long run to pretend, even for a little bit. So he forces himself to whisper back, regret coloring his voice, “I’m not married, brother.”

Liam frowns. “I’m sorry, I just thought… there was a picture of you two dancing. She was in a white dress, you looked dressed to the nines… I just assumed…”

Killian cuts him off before he can go any further. “It’s quite alright, we just… it was a maybe, someday.” He pauses. “I guess not anymore.”

“And the house?”

“We were planning on living there together. Building a future. But again…”

“Not anymore.” Liam nods. “Well, whatever would or wouldn’t have happened, the house appears to be for your use down here. Come along, I’ll take you there.”

\------

The house Liam brings him to appears to be a perfect replica of the one Henry and he picked out back in Camelot, just more run down. What little furniture is present is covered in drop cloths and feels stiff and painful. Of course, those observations are secondary to how his attention is immediately drawn to the two photos in the entryway – the one from Camelot that Liam described, and the tiny instant photograph the Lady Snow took the night of their first date. Emma’s beautiful pink dress had made her look like an angel of some kind, and he can just see his temporarily-restored left hand resting on the small of her back. It’s a little bittersweet, seeing those images in this place that might have been home, but he’d rather they were here than not.

Liam, as it turns out, lives on the Jewel of the Realm (and it’s definitely the Jewel here, not the Jolly – beautiful and pristine and not marred by centuries of unintentional gouges from his hook) and runs the local bar, where he promptly offers his little brother (“Younger!”) a job. Turns out this was the only place at which he could find employment when he first arrived, and when the previous owner moved on, ownership transferred to Liam. 

“And why have you never been able to move on? Go, be happy and at peace?”

Liam smiles sadly. “I was always worrying about you, wondering how you fared. Felt too guilty about not listening to you, I suppose, making you watch me die like that.”

Whether intentional or not, Killian can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the fact that his brother has been trapped here because of him. Gods, will his list of sins never end?

But Liam breezes on. “Now that you’re here, though, I think I’ll be able to move on, just as soon as we sort your unfinished business. Any idea what that might be?”

That only twists the knife deeper. Of course he knows what his unfinished business is, and it’s nothing that can be sorted out in a few weeks. It’s promising Emma a happy ending and a future – hell, just promising her that he’d survive. “Ah, well, we’ll both be here for a while then.” Liam quirks a quizzical brow. “I made a vow I ended up not being able to keep. So until Emma either moves on or…” He can’t even speak the words, refuses to even contemplate Emma dying and joining him down here for many, many years yet. “… then I’m stuck here. Which apparently means so are you.”

That feels like the worst admission of all – that he’s somehow doomed everyone he cares about to a lifetime of misery. And when Liam pulls him into a hug that he’s sure is meant to be comforting, he can’t help but feel that he doesn’t deserve that kindness, not one bit.

\------

Killian quickly settles into a routine, if only in an attempt to retain some semblance of sanity. Every evening, he joins Liam to work behind the bar at the Underworld’s version of the Rabbit Hole (though down here, the bar seems to cater to those drinking to forget, rather than serving as the social hub it was back in the real Storybrooke); every morning and early afternoon he tries to fix up their –  _ his  _ house a little more, straightening hinges and sanding floors as best as he can. A man learns a good bit of carpentry over years of maintaining a ship; the only thing holding Killian back oftentimes is his lack of proper tools. Liam’s assistance is often offered, but rarely accepted; somehow, Killian feels like this is a task he must accomplish on his own.

Besides being in a state of complete and utter disrepair, the house additionally seems to have a mind and a life of its own. Killian simultaneously loves and dreads the surprises the house conjures up for him. The metal table and chairs on the back porch are an exact match to the set outside of Granny’s where he and Emma shared their first real kiss; a constant smell of cinnamon lingers in the kitchen, despite there not being any of the spice in the house; Middlemist flowers wilt, half dead, in the front flowerbeds. The tower room upstairs must have been meant for Henry in another life, as all of the photographs that appear there are of the two of them or of him, the lad, and Emma. He even finds the Author’s pen in a drawer of the desk beneath the window. This is, oddly enough, the room that hurts the most – a vivid reminder of the life they all might have had. Yet he still finds himself checking the room nearly every day, sometimes twice a day, to see if any new memories have appeared of him and the young man he was looking forward to one day proudly calling his stepson.

\------

Every few days, he allows himself to visit the red talking phone box to try and send a message to Emma. There’s no real knowing if any of it reaches her, but he repeats the same words over and over again anyways:

“I’m so sorry, Swan. I’m so very, very sorry to have left you, especially after I promised I wouldn’t. I’m so sorry and I love you so incredibly much, will love you as long as I have a soul to do so.”

(He can’t decide if it hurts more to talk to her or to stop.)

\------

A few weeks after he arrives in the Underworld – he thinks three, but really, time runs together down here – there’s a persistently circulating murmur that the former Dark One, Rumpelstiltskin, had been brought here, brought to the Underworld to answer for his sins, before being taken back to the world above by Charon on the very same boat.

Killian knows it’s petty, and far too late anyhow, but he can’t help but feel like he deserves a second chance more than the Crocodile ever could.

Maybe that’s the reason – when given the option of a second chance, a shot to redeem himself, Killian grabbed it with both hands and made the most of every moment. He was satisfied. He was happy. Rumpelstiltskin hasn’t achieved any of that. Apparently, someone thinks he deserves all that just once.

Whatever the case, Killian knows he’d have given anything to be the one going home – back to his  _ real  _ home – on that boat.

\------

Maybe a week after that, Killian is shocked one afternoon to feel a strange tingling all over his body, and when he looks back up, is stunned to see himself not in his kitchen, but in Storybrooke’s cemetery with Henry standing in front of him. In his joy, he rushes forward to embrace Henry… only to be devastated to see his arms pass right through his boy.

Henry looks just as crushed. “It’s only temporary,” he explains softly. “I got this ale stuff from Merida to talk to you.”

Killian nods. “That was very resourceful, lad.” A pause. “How are you doing?”

Henry shrugs noncommittally; Killian knows the feeling. “Ok, I guess. I miss you. We all do.”

“I miss you too, Henry, you and your mum. More than I can properly express.”

“She misses you like crazy, you know. Kinda just goes through the motions like she’s in a daze. I guess she imagines your voice sometimes, cus that’s what she always tells me when I walk in on her crying.”

(In that moment, Killian vows to stop visiting the talking phone box. It’s clearly hurting her more than it’s helping him.)

Henry looks worried for a second. “Are you doing alright? You’re not… it’s not like pits of fire down there, is it?”

Bless this wonderful boy for worrying about a man who can’t possibly deserve it. “I’m ok. I’m with my brother, get left alone most of the time. I wish I was up here with you lot but it’s not so bad, being dead.”

Henry nods, and Killian’s heart breaks a little more at the thought of having left this young man concerned about him for even a moment. Henry shouldn’t ever have to be in position where he has to think about what happens to the soul of one of his loved ones after they’re gone. He’s already had to do it with his father; the last thing he ever wanted was to put Henry through that pain again.

Henry seems to finally work up the courage to get to his point, the reason he summoned Killian. “Gold woke up the other day. We all thought he wouldn’t, and I think my moms kinda hoped he wouldn’t, but he did.”

Killian nods. “I know. I heard down in the Underworld.”

“It’s just so unfair, you know? That you don’t get another chance too. I know more people would want you back.”

“Ah, but we don’t get to decide these things, lad. You have to know that if it was up to me, I’d be back with you two in a heartbeat. I’d choose you every time.”

“I know.”

Another pause. It’s like there’s so much to say that neither even knows where to start.

Killian breaks it first. “I take it you’re back in Storybrooke then?”

“Yeah. Mom used…” His voice falters. “Mom used your heart to cast the Dark Curse. She and my other mom and the fairies and Merlin are trying to figure out how to send the Camelot folks back now.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“No. I just thought…” Yet another pause. “I figured if this didn’t work, I didn’t want to get her hopes up. She’s already sad enough as it is.”

Selfishly, he wants to beg Henry to go bring her here as fast as possible, but he can feel whatever this spell is about to fade out, a tingling starting in his toes. Not to mention, the lad is right. No need to torture his love unnecessarily. He wants her to move on, be happy, and that’s just not possible if she’s coming to summon him every chance she gets.

“I think that’s smart, lad. Maybe we don’t tell her? Just keep this between us?”

He can tell Henry wants to object. “But –“

“It’ll be too hard otherwise. For both of us. I just want her to move on and be happy, yeah?” At least this time, Henry nods. “I think I have to go now, but I love and miss you both so much, ok? Try to be happy for me?”

He won’t lie – it hurts a lot that his last view of Henry before he reappears in his kitchen is of the lad sniffling and trying to hold back tears as he waves goodbye.

\------

Not long after his talk with Henry, Killian is shocked to walk past a previously empty room of the house one day to discover a fully furnished nursery. Mostly, he hopes to any god that might be listening that this is just another trick of the house, another glimpse of what he could have and should have had, had he lived. He hopes Swan isn’t having to go through a pregnancy alone again.

(A selfish part of him likes to imagine she has a little someone to remember him by – a little lass or laddie with her hair and his eyes.)

(He can’t help but add that thought to the ever-expanding list of reasons to be disgusted with himself.)

\------

About two months after his death, Killian is once again summoned by Henry, who is pacing and clearly furious when he rematerializes.

Internally, Killian can’t help but huff a sigh – Henry needs to move on, needs to let him go, needs to not try and contact him every time something goes wrong. “Henry…” he starts, intending to reprimand the boy, when the young man in question colorfully interrupts.

“That son of a bitch!”

“ _ Henry _ , language! I know for a fact neither of your mothers tolerates that.”

“Well pardon me, but that asshat Gold separated Excalibur and took back the Darkness, so I think it might be warranted.”

“That son of a whore,” Killian can’t help but blurt out. So much for scolding Henry.

“ _ See? _ ”

This talk ends up being slightly longer than the last – Henry just needs to vent, but when it comes to the Crocodile, there’s always an awful lot to vent about. But right before he fades out, Henry fixes his full attention on Killian.

“I’m going to find a way to bring you back, okay? If he gets to live, so should you. You deserve it a million times over.”

(He knows he no longer has a heart, but somehow, it still feels warm anyways.)

\------

The next few weeks, he can’t help but feel hopeful. It must be apparent, because Liam keeps commenting on how cheerful he seems, one day even (Gods help him) catching him whistling. Killian even finds himself making an effort to interact with the other souls living in the Underworld. In the end, that’s how he meets Milah again.

It’s bittersweet, really. Killian spent hundreds of years trying to avenge his first great love, only to see her again and realize how many of the finer details he had forgotten. He supposes that’s what happens when you finally move on.

At least he’s relieved to learn that Milah’s unfinished business has nothing to do with him (one less thing to carry on his conscience). In fact, it’s her guilt over leaving Bae that has kept her here all this time. It’s the very least he can do to tell her about all the times he and Bae – or Neal – interacted, how Bae had still fiercely loved his mother and forgiven her for leaving before he had died. That seems to be enough for her – to know that her son had ultimately been happy.

It’s a little awkward, telling Milah about how he had moved on with Emma (especially since he had been dating the former lover of his own former lover’s son), but she loves hearing his stories about Henry – how smart and down to Earth he is, how brave, how adventurous. It’s a pity, really, that the two will never meet – he sees so much of Milah in her grandson, and thinks the two would have gotten along famously.

“Thank you,” she tells him, as she kisses his cheek. “I’m happy you were able to find a family for yourself. You and your big heart deserve it, even if you want to pretend otherwise.”

Then she vanishes, off to hopefully meet her son in a better place.

\------

Five weeks after Henry’s second visit (this time, Killian is counting carefully), he’s summoned for a third time to find Henry looking exhausted and disheveled. 

“Gods above, lad, are you alright? What happened?”

“Don’t worry. Long story.”

“Well then summarize.”

“Uh… Belle found out about Gold taking back the darkness. Broke up with Gold. Found out she was pregnant. Then Gold found out she was pregnant, and tried to manipulate her to come back to him, but she didn’t. So he sped up Zelena’s pregnancy so we’d be distracted while he tried to kidnap Belle to another realm. And I’ve been researching all the while.”

“Is she alright? Is everyone alright?”

“Yeah, Belle’s fine. Mom and Mom figured out what was going on pretty quick and Mom – Regina and Gramps went after him while Mom held down the fort at the hospital. That’s what I’m here about actually – Merlin and I found a spell to get to the Underworld. It required the blood of someone who had already been but came back, but Gramps nicked Gold before he fell through the portal, so we’re all set now. Just have to wait a few days, six days, for the full moon and then we’re coming to get you.”

Killian knows he should be grateful, but his blood runs cold when he hears the words. “No, Henry, you can’t, I can’t let you put yourself in danger for me. I’m already dead, I can’t let you risk getting yourself killed to fix something that isn’t meant to be fixed.”

“I don’t care. I miss you, Mom’s miserable, so I’m going to get you back. End of discussion.”

And, well, who is he to argue with the young man who possesses the Heart of the Truest Believer?

\------

Of course, it’s too much to hope that everything will run smoothly and he’ll be home in a week. Instead, Hades shows up in all his slimy glory. Apparently, Killian’s hope is a little too contagious - enough that the Lord of the Dead himself has noticed and deemed it a threat to his rule.

Instead of waiting in his house for his Swan and their boy to take him home, he gets taken to Hades’ underground cavern of a dungeon to have the hope beat out of him.

\------

Briefly, through a haze of pain and a coating of blood, Killian thinks he feels himself being summoned again, thinks he catches a glimpse of Emma and all her –  _ their _ – family, but he writes it off as a hallucination. 

\------

And then suddenly, he’s being lifted down from the chains he’s strung up in by a pair of small, gentle hands.

Emma.

He’s half delirious with pain, but he can’t help but try and grin when her face swims into focus (or at least as much focus as he can achieve with one eye swollen shut). She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, even in filthy jeans and an oversized sweater with a pale face and tears in her eyes.

It’s the very least he can do, after all he’s put her through, to work through the pain to try and wipe away her tears.

\------

Somehow, Emma helps him hobble out of the chamber where he had been suspended to an outer landing where Liam is waiting with a boat, ready to return them both to the upper levels of the Underworld. 

(There's some tension between the two, but it’s difficult to comment on that tension when he has to consciously focus on breathing properly and not falling over.)

Killian is more than happy to mask any physical pain, however, when upon re-emerging into the Underworld’s facsimile of a library, Henry rushes up to wrap him in an enormous hug. He may not be fully healed for a while, but this? This is a start.

He’s just as touched to see the small crowd assembled behind the lad – Emma’s parents are there, of course, and he’s not that shocked to see Regina, considering that it was her precious son that engineered the plan to find and retrieve him, but it’s something more of a surprise to see Belle and Robin as well. He shakes the men’s hands in turn, offers a nod to Regina, and hugs Belle as firmly as his injuries will allow (taking the chance to whisper a soft but deeply meant “congratulations” in her ear). Killian then does his best to console the lady Snow – who looks close to tears – with a mumbled “it’s not as bad as it looks” as she holds his face to kiss his cheek before Emma interrupts to say she needs to bring him home and clean him up. At that, the others disperse, either to the Charmings’ loft or the Mayor’s mansion, as his Swan slides her slender arm around his waist and tosses his arm over her shoulder in order to help him hobble the few blocks back to his –  _ their _ house.

It’s only once she gets him inside and settled in a kitchen chair – “I know it’s unsanitary, but hey, better than getting bloodstains on the couch, right?” – that Killian starts to think something is off. He hadn’t been too surprised when Emma wasn’t clinging to him in front of her family; on the best of days, she isn’t much for public displays of affection (or “PDA”, as she and Henry insist on saying), and a time when he needs help holding himself up certainly isn’t the best of days. But they’re alone now, and he’s sitting down, and damn if he doesn’t want to hold her. Killian knows it’s not the blood that’s the issue – he may be covered in the stuff, but so is she after supporting his weight for the past forty-five minutes, and it doesn’t seem to be fazing her in the least. Maybe before, his lack of self-confidence would have insisted Emma didn’t actually want to be here, didn’t want to be with him, but the way she tries to touch his face or his hand every time she passes him as she scurries around his kitchen trying to clean off the worst of the blood seems to suggest otherwise. So why doesn’t Emma seem to want him to hold her? It could just be that she doesn’t want to hurt him further, aggravate his wounds, but something makes him think otherwise.

“Love?”

She hums in his general direction.

“What’s wrong?”

Emma shoots a quick, though tight smile his way before turning back to the sink, trying to wring out a rag that was surely as clean as it was going to get. “Nothing’s the matter babe, don’t worry about it.”

He wants to believe her, so badly, but he knows how to spot her avoidances. And this? This is one of the most obvious he’s seen. “Emma, love…”

Killian holds out his hand towards her, and even if she was trying to avoid him a moment ago, she takes it like their palms are connected by magnets. “I’m just so relieved to have found you, to see you again. That’s all.”

“Even if that’s true, I know that’s not all,” he replies, to her half-hearted scoff. “You don’t have to tell me right now, but just let me hold you, love, let me try and make it better for both of us, yeah?”

As he tugs her closer, Emma tries to protest, tries to tell him “Killian, I don’t think that’s a good —” but he’s even quicker to interrupt.

“If this is you worrying about my injuries, sod the injuries,” he dismisses as his hand and stump move to her waist in order to pull her closer, only to unexpectedly encounter firmness.

Now Emma has always been strong and well-muscled, certainly, but she’s also a tiny, petite thing, thanks to her mother’s genes. So to encounter her now, more filled out, is odd. And suddenly, Killian remembers – 

Upstairs, there is a room, meant to be a nursery.

“Swan…” he murmurs, slowly pulling up her sweater as she sighs in defeat to reveal…

…The small beginnings of a bump.

“…Surprise?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your wonderful response to the first chapter! This second chapter is also being posted as part of March Madness; the third chapter will be posted on March 24th. Special thanks to my excellent beta, @snidgetsafan. 
> 
> Enjoy another dose of angst!

“I’m about sixteen weeks along,” she tells him, sitting next to him on the master bed, staring at the comforter. He had barely allowed her to clean off the rest of the blood and wrestle him into clean clothes before dragging her down next to him. Bandages and stitches and ice packs can wait. “Second trimester, though barely, but chance of miscarriage goes down substantially so we don’t have to worry about that.”

She’s making it all sound so clinical, like she’s trying not to force him to form emotions about the situation. But… bloody hell, Emma’s expecting. A child.  _ His _ child. He knows she’s used to people not sticking around, but it’s impossible for him not to fall in love with the little one, now that he knows they exist. It’s hard to put that into words though, so he just slips his arm around her waist and pull her closer into him. “How long have you known?” he asks quietly.

“About two months.” She pauses. “Regina and I found a spell that we thought would send the Camelot folks back – didn’t work, by the way, they’re still hanging around and causing trouble – and I know I wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep but I guess I must not have eaten that day either because I passed out. I can’t really use my magic right now, it turns out, at least not in large doses, or it’ll completely exhaust me; my magic is all tied up with the baby right now, or… something. I don’t fully understand it. Anyway, Regina brought me back around, but insisted I go get checked out at the hospital. They ran some tests, and that’s how I found out about the bean.”

He grins, even if it aggravates his black eye. “The bean?”

She blushes. “Uh… yeah. Well, I felt kinda bad thinking about the kiddo as an it, and ‘little bean’ kinda stuck.”

“Well I think it’s very cute.” Suddenly, the other part of that story sinks in. “So Regina knows?” 

Emma nods.

“Who else?”

“Just Regina. I needed a bit of time to come around to the idea, but by the time I was ready to start telling people, Henry was deep into his research and determined to get you back, and I just thought… if I was going to start telling people, if at all possible, I wanted the next person to be you. Thankfully, Henry had found a way down here by the time I started showing, so it’s just been a lot of oversized sweaters for the last two weeks. At least it’s January in Maine, so it doesn’t really look unusual.”

“Are you doing ok? Feeling alright?”

“Yeah, the morning sickness has mostly gone away, though it wasn’t as bad as with Henry. Cravings are starting to kick in. Emotions are all over the place, which has been… fun.”

He smirks into her hair as he presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Thought I saw you tearing up back there, in the cavern.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles back.

“And the little one – the bean’s alright?”

She smiles back at him and pulls his hand over to her stomach and its barely-there bump. “Yeah. The bean’s great. Good strong heartbeat. Can’t feel movement yet, but I should be able to in another few weeks. I’ve got the sonogram picture in my phone, I’ll show it to you later if I find where I set it down.”

After the day he’s had (hell, the weeks and months he’s had), the life-changing information he’s been given, it’s his turn to tear up as he pulls Emma down with him to lay across the bed. “Thank you”, he barely manages to whisper – whether for saving him, for coming for him in the first place, or for this miraculous and unexpected gift, he can’t honestly say, but Emma seems to understand anyways. She nods into his shoulder and snuggles in as close as she can manage with his injuries as they both doze off.

And Killian Jones finds the best sleep he’s ever had in the Victorian house that has never quite been a home until this night.

\------

They attempt to tell Emma’s –  _ their  _ family the next morning, but as it turns out, no one is really surprised. Snow had apparently put the pieces together several weeks ago, and true to form, couldn’t resist telling apparently everyone who would listen. Frankly, Killian is shocked that Emma hadn’t realized everyone knew sooner – the town of Storybrooke isn’t known for its subtlety.

(She does grumble out an “I guess that’s why Granny’s been trying to force vegetables down my throat”, much to his amusement.)

Snow is thrilled, Henry excited, and Dave seemingly stuck at something resembling the denial stage of grief (“Oh, he’ll come around,” Snow tries to reassure Killian. “He just doesn’t want to accept that you and Emma… you know.”). In the end, it seems like Liam is the only one caught off guard.

And boy, is he ever off guard.

Killian couldn’t help but notice a weird tension between Emma and his brother when they initially retrieved him, but he originally wrote it off as Liam feeling uncomfortable with finding his place in the strange new family his little brother had collected. That doesn’t seem to be the case though; he damn near sweeps Belle and the lady Snow off their feet with elaborate bows and kisses over their hands, is getting along with Dave just as well as Killian always feared (no, that funny feeling is not jealousy, thank you very much), and seems tickled pink that Henry calls him “Uncle Liam”.

But Emma…

Well, it becomes painfully, capital letter obvious that Liam Jones, beloved brother and friend to all, Does Not Like Emma Swan. 

After several uncomfortable days of Emma trying to avoid Liam at all costs, Liam ignoring Swan whenever possible, and Regina developing a habit of viciously glaring at the elder Jones whenever he tries to act friendly towards the former Evil Queen, it all comes to a head when Killian enters the office of his house where both Emma and his brother have found themselves holed up just to find Emma leaving, nearly in tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he stops her. “What’s the matter?”

She tries to smile, even if she looks like she might fall apart at any moment. “Nothing to worry about. Just… upset that we haven’t found a way out of here yet.”

Now, Killian may not have his Swan’s lie detector, but she’s enough of an open book that he can see she’s not telling him everything. “Are you sure?”

She nods. “Yep. Perfectly fine. I’ll be upstairs.” And if her brisk tone wasn’t already enough of a red flag, she practically flees the room like some kind of hellhound is chasing her.

He immediately turns back to Liam, who’s been watching the entire exchange with a look Killian doesn’t want to place. “What have you done?”

Liam sputters and tries to deflect. “Excuse me? Why would you assume I had anything to do with that little display?”

“Well, when the mother of my child comes out of this room after having spent time with you, about to cry, I tend to put two and two together. So what happened?”

“Sure it isn’t just hormones? Pregnant women cry a lot, as I understand.”  
“Not this one, not where others can see. I’m only going to ask one more time – what the _hell_ did you do?”

Liam sighs, and Killian already knows he isn’t going to like whatever his brother has to say. “Well, Miss Swan asked why I didn’t like her. I simply answered her question.”

“Stop beating around the bush, Liam, what did you tell her to leave her so upset?”

Liam at least has the decency to act hesitant to respond. “I simply told her it wasn’t a personal dislike, she just wasn’t nearly good enough for you. And I struggled to see how she had tricked not only yourself, but your friends into thinking so.”

Killian loves his brother, but were it anyone else saying those vile words, he’d sock them in the face. “Why the  _ hell  _ would you say that?” he shoots back, starting to raise his voice.

“Oh, please, Killy, I’ve been watching the Captain’s log - not to mention, you told me the story yourself. She’s left you for dead to be eaten by a giant, imprisoned you enough times I lost count, seems to have been incredibly cold to you even after you started courting her. Must I justify this?”

“Must I remind you where I was before her? I was living for some twisted idea of vengeance! I was ready to die for that! And she  _ saved  _ me!”

“I have trouble believing you were that bad in the first place, but even if you were, she’s not the saint you seem to think she is. Or have you forgotten she’s a thief?”

“ _ Was  _ a thief. And what of all the things we had to do to survive, Liam, the snatches of food we’d swipe to not starve to death? She’s been abandoned, Liam, never had anyone, had to bite and scratch her way through life and do whatever she had to in order to survive.”

“But some of that was by choice, wasn’t it? How do you even know she won’t give up this child too? Henry filled me in about how she let him go, some nonsense about ‘best chances’. How can you be with a woman who abandoned her son, after what Father did to us?”

That’s the final straw, really. Killian knows his voice is raised far higher that it should be, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Oh, so you heard that whole story then? About how she was in jail because the man she loved set her up for his crime – oh, and that’s not just me saying that, the bastard admitted to it - told me himself. Now, Emma likes to tell people she was eighteen when she had the lad, but I can tell you, when we celebrated her 31 st birthday a few months ago, Henry had already been 13 for several weeks. So she was only 17 bloody years old, in jail, chained to a hospital bed in case she tried to stage some wild escape in the middle of labor, I suppose. Hadn’t finished her education, so no chance of securing employment upon her release. No family to take the babe. Never had anyone to selflessly love her, let alone any parents, so didn’t even know where to start with being a mother. But yes, I can see where you might think it was a crock of shit that she gave him up for adoption so he might have his best chance, or at least a damn better chance than she got.”

That outburst, at least, seems to shut Liam up for the moment.

“Now, I’ve got an amazing woman with spectacular trust and abandonment and self-worth issues, who you just told wasn’t possibly good enough for me, waiting upstairs. I trust you can see yourself out.”

He can’t even find it within himself to wait and see if his brother leaves.

\------

He finds Emma upstairs in the nursery, appropriately enough, with tears running down her face, and he knows immediately that she’s heard every word.

“I’m sorry I made you fight with your brother,” she whispers.

He shakes his head. “He’s being an arse. I should be the one apologizing to you, for not noticing earlier how he was treating you. And that you had to hear what was just said.”

She pauses, apparently fighting back tears. “I… I know I probably don’t deserve you and how much you love me, and if you decide you’d rather move on with Liam I’ll have to be okay with that, but… I spent three months without you, Killian. And I was miserable. I’d deal if I had to, but I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

Killian pulls her to him with those words, closer than he ever thought possible, to try and make his words have the greatest impact. “Oh love, I’ll never leave you again if I can possibly help it.”

(He only hopes that’s a promise he can finally keep.)

\------

Regina decides the next day that he’s healed enough to attempt to split Emma’s heart. It warrants a lot of protesting on his part, worries not only about Emma’s safety but the bean’s too, but Emma’s sheer confidence that this will work finally wins him over. After all, when that means she believes them to be true love, who is he to argue?

So he lets Regina reach into Emma’s chest, all for him, only for her to be blasted back.

It’s not going to work.

\------

Of course, it’s not simply a matter of them not being True Love – the verdict is still out on that – it’s something far worse. It’s, instead, a matter of Hades carving Emma’s and Regina’s and Snow’s names onto headstones, trapping them in the Underworld and getting his revenge for their steady work of sending souls to a better place (because of  _ course _ this group of heroes has been up to their old redemptive tricks, even down here).

However, the Charmings have never been accused of being quitters, and a new plan is concocted quickly. Henry already has the pen in his possession, thanks to the machinations of the house; there’s no reason there shouldn’t be a storybook down here too, and if they can find it, perhaps Henry can use his author powers to write them a way out of the Underworld. Even Liam admits that the plan has merit, citing rumors circulating of a book with the power to defeat Hades, once and for all.

Killian can’t help but feel guilty about the whole thing. After all, none of them would be here, now cursed to remain so, if they hadn’t come to rescue him - hell, if he hadn’t gotten in the way of Arthur’s sword in the first place. 

“This is all my fault,” he laments to Emma. “You should never have come after me. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Hey, none of that,” Emma tries to soothe. “You’re not the one responsible for our names. Hades did that. And we all came of our own choice, even Henry.  _ Especially  _ Henry. You know that. He threatened to find his own way here if we didn’t take him with us.”

“That doesn’t erase the fact that you’re here - that you, and Henry, and the baby, and all the rest of our family are in danger, all because you’re trying to save me. That doesn’t keep it from lying heavy on my conscience.”

“Would you do the same thing for us?”

Killian stares at her like she’s grown a second head. What kind of absurd question is that? “Would I — of  _ course  _ I would, Emma. In a heartbeat.”

“Okay, well, that’s exactly what we’re doing here.” Emma softens suddenly, reaching up to smooth a gentle hand along his cheek. “I know you think you’re the most expendable, Killian, but not to us. We’re here because we don’t want to experience life without you any longer, and at a certain point you’re going to have to loosen your grip on the wheel and accept it, Captain.  _ None of this is your fault. _ ”

The doubt and guilt still niggle at the back of Killian’s mind, but it’s so much more pleasant to embrace Emma’s words instead, so he gives into the temptation and drops a gentle kiss of silent thanks on her lips. 

Apart from all that, Liam has been acting distant all day, and on a certain level, Killian understands. He and Liam were never the type of brothers to fight much, circumstances bringing them much closer than most. He’s uncomfortable too, through the sharp anger he still feels, and doesn’t relish being around Liam right now either. But when he joins the rest of the group at the sorcerer’s mansion after checking on the bar, Liam is acting even stranger. Killian can’t help but wonder what’s happened, or if his brother is just feeling guilty about the things he said about Emma, but there’s no time to address the issue right now. The mansion is positively filled with books, and each one must be checked to make sure it’s not what they’re looking for. 

He gets truly suspicious when Liam, of all people, finds the book, only for Henry to discover that it’s missing crucial pages. As Liam excuses himself, supposedly to continue the search, Killian follows him, only to discover Liam tossing something that looks suspiciously like paper into a well.

Before Killian can even muster up an accusation, Liam turns around with an apologetic look on his face. 

“I’m sorry, Killian, but I promise this is necessary.”

And then everything goes black.

\------

He comes to, propped against the stone wall of a cave, with Liam watching over him. Killian forces himself back to his feet as soon as he’s fully awake, determined to find a way out.

“What the hell Liam? What did you do with the pages, and what the hell are we doing here?”

“I had to, Killian!” Liam protests. “It was the only way.”

“The only way for what?”

The look on Liam’s face now is undeniably panic, as he starts pacing back and forth.

“I made a deal with Hades.”

“You did  _ what? _ ”

“It was the only way, Killian! He’s locking things down here, not letting anyone move on. If I got rid of the pages, he’d let us move on, no opposition.”

If Killian was angry before, he’s furious now. “I don’t want to go, Liam! I thought I made that clear, did it not sink into that thick skull?”

“Killian, please, this is for the best. I’m just looking out for you.”

He loves Liam, but it’s like centuries of frustration boil over in a moment. “You’re always telling me what’s best for me, Liam, don’t I get a say in my own life? I managed nearly three hundred years without you, and you still don’t trust me to make my own decisions. You’ve never really trusted me though, have you? I’m sure I gave you reasons not to over the years, with the drinking and the gambling and generally being the younger brother, but Gods, Liam, it still hurts that you trusted your bloody monarch over your own brother, and died because of it. I am  _ begging _ you – believe me, just this once, when I say that  _ I _ know what is best for me. Even if their wild plans don’t succeed, I will do  _ anything _ to spend longer with Emma and Henry and my child. And that’s what’s best for me right now.”

It hurts, walking away from his brother in a rage for the second time in as many days. Killian only hopes Liam doesn’t choose this moment to cross over, leaving him in anger and without any resolution. But on this matter, Killian has to draw a line in the sand. It’s time he stops viewing Liam as a god-like figure who can do no wrong, stop letting Liam control his life and his shadow guilt Killian even from beyond the grave.

He’s got a family to get back to.

\------

When he finds Emma again, back at their house, she’s in a full-scale panic that Hades had imprisoned him again, or worse, that he had left for the Great Beyond without saying goodbye. Killian can feel her physically relax as he gathers her in his arms, planting a kiss on her forehead and murmuring “I’m not going anywhere, love.”

Liam slinks back some hours later, apologies on his lips, as if that will make it all better. Unfortunately for him, Killian’s not yet ready to talk, to forgive. That will come later; he still loves his brother unconditionally, but it’s stopped being a blind love, one in which he refuses to see any flaws, and has turned into something more painful, if ultimately more healthy: seeing his brother as a human being that makes mistakes, rather than some god on a pedestal.

Liam is less understanding about the matter, resulting in something of a spat between the two brothers, the elder Jones seemingly not understanding that this issue isn’t something to be glossed over and easily resolved.

“I already apologized, Killian,” he snaps. “What more do you want from me?”

“I don’t know,” Killian replies quietly, calmly, coldly. “But right now, I just want you to leave.”

It’s easily the harshest fight they’ve ever had, and Liam leaves without another word, stalking to the front door and all but slamming it. Killian isn’t comfortable with the way they’re leaving things, per se, but he’s not ready to just let bygones be bygones either, so this is perhaps the best he can hope for.

Killian may have displayed his anger earlier, but it’s later that night, in bed with Emma, that he finally lets the sorrow and disappointment reign. 

“I don’t understand,” he laments, head resting just below her breasts. “How could he do that? How could he even think it?

“I don’t know, babe,” Emma soothes as best she can. Her hand slips through his hair, scratching along his scalp and calming Killian more than her words do.

“He was always my hero, you know?” He says. “Liam always knew best, was always so sure of himself, always in charge, and I accepted that. He’s my brother. But gods, it’s been almost three hundred years. I’ve learned what’s best for me, how to make my own decisions. I’ve been grateful to have this extra time with him, but… Gods above, how could he think that abandoning any hope of resurrection, abandoning you and Henry and the babe, could be what was best for me? What happened to him?”

“He’s been down here a really long time. Who knows what that can do to a person. But maybe,” she suggests gently, “maybe you’ve just grown up. So to speak. I know Liam is your hero, but he’s also just a man. Which usually means he’s not as perfect as you remember. Maybe… maybe after everything you’ve been through since you last saw him , you’ve both changed. Now it’s easier to see him without the haze. Rose colored glasses? Is that the term?”

Killian manages a watery chuckle against her stomach before stretching up to drop a kiss on the underside of Emma’s jaw. “Aye, that’s the term. You’re probably right,” he admits as he curls back around her side, stretching his arm across her abdomen where their little one grows.

“I’m sorry you had to take them off,” Emma whispers into the darkness.

Killian swallows heavily, forcing the fresh emotion back down. “So am I.”

He’s still here, Killian reminds himself as he holds Emma closer within his arms. Despite it all, he’s still here, and he has no intention of letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know I've said I didn't want to make Liam a mass murderer, but that doesn't mean I can't still make him a dick. Sorry?
> 
> I've so enjoyed hearing your feedback and compliments on this fic! I always love to hear more, so hit up that kudos button and comment box. This is also posted on tumblr, where I'm @shireness-says. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with my last CS March Madness Contribution! The rest of the chapters will be up as soon as I get them done. Thanks again to @xemmaloveskillianx for hosting, and to @snidgetsafan for her beta skills!
> 
> Enjoy!

As far as rude awakenings go, the entire house shaking has to top the list.

While half asleep, Killian had been happy to write it off as Emma tossing around in bed, as she’s prone to do (his favorite little bed hog), but as the shaking continues, shaking him fully out of slumber and straight into panic instead, it becomes obvious that something is happening. Something dire, something unusual even for the Underworld. It makes him sit bolt upright in bed, alert and trying to safely discern what the hell is going on as Emma grumbles incoherently at the sudden removal of her human pillow.

“Wake up, love,” he says urgently. When she just groans, not willing to rouse herself from her hazy dreamland, Killian resorts to shaking her. “Emma, love, you’ve got to wake up, something’s the matter.” 

Just then, the shaking abruptly stops. Emma blearily blinks up at at him, blessedly awake. “Was something… shaking?” She asks groggily.

“Aye. I don’t know what,” he replies, quickly getting out of bed and moving to retrieve his trousers and shirt. Unlike certain blondes in his life, he’s always careful to fold his laundry and either put it away or into the dirty clothes basket instead of tossing them into corners willy-nilly. 

“Well we’ve got to go find out!” Emma shoots right back, tossing the covers back and swinging her legs over the side of the mattress.

“Aye. I’d think it was an earthquake, but down here —” Killian’s train of thought is abruptly cut off as he hears a soft  _ oof _ from Emma, followed by an alarming screech of bedsprings. When he whips back around from where he had been facing away from the bed, Emma is sitting wide-eyed, both hands gripping at the edge of the mattress.

Killian’s certain he’s never moved faster, crouching down in front of Emma in a flash and reaching for her hand. “Are you alright, Emma? Love, talk to me. Are you okay, is the baby okay?”

“Calm down, Captain. Everything’s fine, I just stood up too fast, blood rush or whatever.” Patting his hand briefly, she stands back up again, this time without any problems, and moves to collect her own jeans and sweater.

Emma may not seem too concerned, but the incident - small as it is - really throws things into harsh perspective. He’s already been wrestling with guilt over the fact that Emma’s here, in danger, in the first place - not to mention Henry and their unborn child - but this really reminds him of all the other, more mundane dangers facing them. Emma’s a woman of action; he’s always known that, it was one of the many myriad of things that made him fall in love with her in the first place. But that same impulsiveness, that same urge to help that drives her to action, puts her in a lot of dangerous situations - not just crazy things like this, things that would only happen to the Savior, but everyday dangers too. Her job as Sheriff doesn’t help; Storybrooke is a quiet town, but even quiet towns can host robberies gone wrong or domestic disputes or any number of other circumstances that might prove dangerous, or even deadly, to a bold sheriff too concerned with saving others to worry enough about herself.

“Maybe you should let us investigate this one, love,” he hazards cautiously. This will almost certainly come back to bite him, but he feels he can’t go without saying  _ something _ . She already can only use her magic sparingly, and guns and swords won’t do much against the already deceased. Standing by while she charges into danger just feels like he’s playing a part in whatever harm might come to them.

Emma looks over at him as she pulls her jeans on, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips in disapproval before turning back to button her pants. Their little one protrudes just enough that she’s had to rig up a new closure system with a hair binder, something Killian usually finds adorable, but today just reminds him of how much is at stake. “I’m  _ fine _ , Killian,” she sighs, exasperation tinging her tone. “I’m not about to break.”

“I know you’re strong and hearty, love, but we don’t know what we’re facing out there. And there’s the babe to think about now, too,” he presses.

“What, so I’m supposed to just sit around here, twiddling my thumbs while everyone else rushes off into God only knows what? I’m supposed to be here to save you! I can’t do that just sitting on my ass!” 

“I can’t let you do that though at the cost of your own life! I’m already  _ dead _ , Emma - what the hell else can happen to me?”

Killian regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but there’s nothing to be done about it. Still, seeing the tears pooling at the bottom of her eyes is like a stab through his heart. He hopes they’re a product of her fluctuating hormones, but he’s afraid they’re not; that feels like denying responsibility anyways, and those tears are certainly his fault.

“Emma, love…” he tries again, reaching for her, but she just shakes her head and leaves the room, leaving Killian all alone. With a sigh, he turns to finish securing his brace and shrugging on a shirt. 

Give them both a moment to calm down; then he’ll turn his attention to fixing the mess he’s made.

He doesn’t get a chance, though, Regina already waiting in their living room when Killian finally makes it down the stairs. He wants to go straight to Emma, to try and make up (or, ideally, come to some kind of compromise that keeps her safe but still involved) and put this whole thing behind them, but they can’t do that with Regina standing right there.

“Madame Mayor,” he nods. Things have never been exactly natural between himself and the former Evil Queen; it’s easiest to fall back on practiced formalities. Still, that won’t stop him from asking why she’s here. It  _ is  _ still his own house, after all, and a man is entitled to such things. “May I ask what you’re doing here, Your Majesty? Or how, for that matter, since I didn’t hear the front door or doorbell?”

Regina sniffs in mild disdain at the questioning; he probably shouldn’t have expected any less. “Unlike your  _ girlfriend _ here,” she emphasizes, “there’s nothing wrong with my magic.” At Killian’s blank stare - more unamused than confused, in truth - she elaborates. “I transported myself over into your living room. You felt the disturbance I assume, unless you’re even more oblivious than I gave you credit for?” Ignoring the jibe, Killian nods curtly. “Well, my sister dearest managed to get herself pulled into a portal. With the baby at that.”

“Are they both alright?” Emma asks, blessedly keeping the focus on the problem at hand before the Queen goes off on a rant about her sister (deserved or not).

“Zelena twisted her ankle upon landing, but Vera’s fine.” It’s obvious from Regina’s tone which person’s wellbeing she finds important. “Hades had some underling waiting, but Greenie was able to scare him off with her magic. As far as anyone can tell, he wanted the baby for some purpose, and Zelena was just collateral damage.”

“Robin must be relieved that the little one is alright,” Killian comments. What was the baby’s name? Vera? Soon enough, he and Emma will have to be picking out names for their own babe, if they can just both make it out of the Underworld in one piece.

“He is. We both are,” Regina agrees, a smile almost teasing at the edges of her mouth before she snaps back to her businesslike facade again. “Zelena thinks she might know something, however, and I’d really like to get home and away from the miserable bitch as soon as possible, so if you’re done with the small talk…” she trails off, fixing both Killian and Emma in turn with an expectant look.

Killian jumps to retrieve Emma’s heavy coat and his own leather jacket. They may not have a chance to talk for a while, not with the rush of everything happening, but maybe he can show his love, his care, his apology in smaller ways. She meets his eyes briefly as he opens the coat wide to slip her arms into, and he tries to put all the words he can’t yet say into a small smile; part apology, part reassurance, all love. Emma just looks away, though, reaching for her hat and gloves instead.

Not a good sign.

“I can only take you one at a time,” Regina warns brusquely, “so you’re going to have to wait a moment, Captain.”

“That’s fine,” he assures. “I should collect my brother anyways.”

“Are you sure that’s a wise idea, after his little disappearing act the other day?” Regina demands. She’s always cut straight to the point, and Killian usually appreciates that - hell, would  _ admire _ it in anyone else - but he finds himself wishing she would perhaps mince her words just a bit. There’s something to be said for tact in small doses. It also reminds him that while the group at large knows that something happened yesterday for both he and Liam to suddenly disappear for hours on end, they don’t know all the detail of Liam’s betrayal. 

“No, but for better or worse, I’m hoping he’ll have insights that will be of use to us.” Killian keeps things as vague as possible, but Regina looks like she suspects something’s up all the same. Not that it’s not warranted. The first order of business today will have to be making Liam confess to everyone. It’s as good a penance as any; Killian certainly wouldn’t want to face an angry Regina, let alone the Lady Snow. As much as he’s looking forward to his brother being interrogated by the Evil Queen, however, he’s not keen on receiving the same treatment himself. It’ll be a miracle if he can get out of the house without her demanding any more answers. “I’ll meet you at the Mayor’s Mansion as soon as I can,” he excuses, moving to leave. Things are still unsettled between himself and Emma, but it feels wrong to just leave without any gesture towards her, so he quickly drops a kiss on her cheek on his way to the door, letting their fingers brush in passing. She doesn’t say anything, or move to make it a real kiss, but she doesn’t pull away from him either, which Killian is willing to take as a small success.

Getting better.

It’s only a short walk from the house to the harbor, where Liam is already up and about on the Jolly Roger. “Brother!” he calls. “Did you feel the quaking?”

A burst of irritation fizzles through Killian’s veins. What does Liam think he is, some kind of imbecile?  _ Brother knows best.  _ It makes him wonder if his brother was always like this, and Killian was just too blinded by devotion to see it.

“Yes, that’s why I’m here,” he grinds out. “Gather whatever you need, we’re expected back at the Mayor’s Mansion.”

“I take it you’re still mad at me,” Liam comments on his way down the gangplank.

“Aye, well, it’s not exactly something you get over in only one night,” Killian snipes back.

“Killian, please —”

“No, this is what’s going to happen,” Killian interrupts. “We’re going to go and face Emma’s family -  _ my _ family and friends, and explain exactly what you did, what you told Hades, what was on those pages. You are going to do everything you can to help us. And it  _ still  _ won’t fully make up for what you tried to do to me, what you tried to  _ take _ from me, but it will at least be a start, and we can evaluate from there. Understood?”

“Aye, Brother, but what do you think this —”

“Further discussion will not be necessary.”

The rest of their walk is pretty quiet after that.

To his credit, Liam does confess to the group at large without any extra prodding. Reactions are almost exactly what Killian would have expected: Henry is furious at the betrayal, Belle is shocked, Snow seems to be hovering somewhere around maternal disappointment, and Regina rolls her eyes.

“Can you at least tell us what was on the pages?” she sighs, her voice sounding absolutely exhausted for this early in the day.  _ That’s a feat _ , Killian can’t help but think as he watches the haughty mayor rub at her temples as if to make a headache go away. 

“I wasn’t exactly looking too closely at their contents,” Liam admits with a wince. “All I can tell you is that illustration depicted some sort of rock, or gemstone.”

“It’s a crystal,” Zelena’s voice calls from the doorway, where she’d apparently limped over. “The Olympian Crystal.” Killian hadn’t seen her when he came in; he assumes they got the inevitable sniping out of the way before Killian arrived back at the Mayor’s Mansion with Liam. Not that he regrets missing it; even if he wasn’t already predisposed to dislike the Wicked Witch, especially after the incidents of the Second Curse - he’s not likely to soon forget her attempt to manipulate and  _ drown him _ , thank you very much - her particular brand of constant drama isn’t to Killian’s taste. In his opinion, it’s never a good sign when he, the man who devoted centuries of his life to the pursuit of revenge, thinks you’ve gone a little too far.

“How can you be so certain of that?” Robin bites back. It’s harsher than Killian is used to from the easy-going bandit, but after everything Zelena has done to him, Killian supposes that’s warranted.

“Hades and I have clashed before. And unlike some of us here,” she says pointedly, “I’m willing to dig up a little research about my enemies so I can attack them head-on, instead of rushing in with some half-cocked plan.” There’s no telling who that was aimed at; probably Regina, but it could frankly apply to half the people in the room.

“Yes, you’re a champion researcher, we bow to you in awe,” Regina drawls sarcastically. “Do you want to tell the rest of the class about this ‘Olympic Crystal’, or do you just want to brag?”

“It’s the  _ Olympian _ Crystal, since you  _ obviously _ weren’t listening,” Zelena snaps back. Ah, siblings. “Supposedly, it’s a divine weapon that can be used to defeat Hades.”

“And you never used it? What a go-getter you are,  _ sis _ .”

“He never came back after that frankly bizarre attempt to snatch Oz from under my nose, and unlike  _ some people _ , I don’t feel the need to go actively looking for trouble! I never needed to use it!”

“Well maybe if you had we wouldn’t —”

“ _ Alright _ ,” David interrupts, blessedly so in Killian’s opinion. “Do you know where we can find this… Crystal?”

“No, Blondie,” Zelena sneers. “Like I said:  _ I never needed to _ .” 

That sits with all of them for a moment. This had seemed like such a good lead, but there’s nowhere to take it. Maybe the Crystal wouldn’t bring Killian back to life, but it could take Hades out of the picture, remove a major hurdle to their quest. But without any idea of where to find it, they’re just stuck. 

“We could talk to the Apprentice,” Henry suggests suddenly. “I mean, he’s got to be down here, right?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Regina comments, the pride and surprise warring in her voice.

“Well done, lad,” Killian murmurs, nudging Henry affectionately.

“Okay, so we go see the Apprentice,” David says, no small amount of impatience tinging his tone and no doubt fueling his decisiveness on the matter.

“You can do that. I’ll start here with the baby, I couldn’t  _ possibly _ walk on my ankle,” Zelena sniffs. With that, the room dissolves into a chaos of Robin and Regina protesting and insisting she can’t be left alone with Vera, as David starts just as loudly insisting that they need to leave  _ right now, they can’t afford to waste time _ . 

In the midst of all that, Killian takes the opportunity to tug on Emma’s sleeve. “Can we talk for a moment, love?”

She nods and follows him readily to an unused office, but still doesn’t say anything, instead crossing her arms over her chest and shifting from foot to foot. She looks nervous about this conversation, he realizes, and that helps a little bit.

“I’m sorry,” he says, diving right in. “I didn’t mean to suggest you were putting the baby in danger.”

“I know,” she replies quietly, still shuffling her feet. “My emotions are running so high right now, and I just…” she pauses, apparently collecting herself. “I just want to go home. With you. As soon as we can.”

“I know, love, I do too. I’m just horribly afraid that it’ll be at some awful cost. You’re already trapped here by that headstone. I’m thankful for everything you’re doing to save me, but I’m  _ terrified _ it’ll be at the cost of someone else’s life - your own, or the Bean’s, or anyone else’s. Especially our child. You and I…” he pauses, organizing his thoughts. “You and I, we didn’t have happy childhoods. We didn’t even have safe childhoods, and I’ve always known that if I was lucky enough to have a child, I’d do my damndest to protect them for anything that might hurt them. The little one isn’t even  _ here _ , and I already feel like I’ve failed at keeping them safe. What kind of parent  _ does _ that?” he begs.

“It’s not your fault, Killian,” Emma assures him, stepping forward to cup his cheek in her hand. “You’re doing your best, and the fact that you’re  _ trying _ is what’s going to make you a great dad.”

Killian smiles weakly back at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he assures Emma. “It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you. But with everything that’s going on, I just…”  _ Worry. Overreact. Wonder if I’m really worth it all. _

“I know,” Emma says, and he really thinks she might. She’s always been able to see right through him, after all. “There’s going to come a time where I need to do that, take a backseat, and I’ll let you fuss over me all you want then. But for now…”

“For now, you’ve got it,” Killian finishes. He’ll still worry, of course, still try to protect her when they’re out in the field, fighting the forces of evil, but how is that different from before, really? He’s been by her side since Neverland, trying to keep her safe and happy. Now there’s just a little someone else to watch over as well. “I love you,” he says, making sure to look her in the eyes and attempt to impart exactly how much he means the words.

“I love you too,” Emma smiles back, pressing up for a kiss. Killian’s hand drops to her waist out of habit, allowing his thumb to brush over her growing stomach. “Now, you ready to go see a magician about a crystal?”

“Aye, love. Lead the way.”

———

The Apprentice lives in the same little cottage that he did in the living world, though his window boxes and garden beds are sadly empty. This place isn’t conducive to any form of life, even that of a more botanical bent. In truth, Killian dreads this visit due to all the messy history between himself and the mystical old man. The Apprentice may have seemed to forgive Killian before his untimely death at the hands of the Darkness, despite everything he had done, but Killian isn’t sure he’s forgiven himself. No matter how many times Emma and Henry tell him that he can’t be held responsible for trapping the fairies and the Apprentice in the hat, no matter the fact that he knows Gold was pulling the strings that whole episode, Killian still feels guilty. Even if he wasn’t in control of himself at the time,  _ he  _ was the one that sucked everyone into some unspeakable in-between world, that had to listen to their screams and watch them fight against the portal’s winds. It was a terrible reminder of all the darkness he’s capable of and had succumbed to in the past. Facing the Apprentice is a terrible reminder of all that.

He doesn’t offer any judgement as he opens the door, though, doesn’t slam it in Killian’s face (as would be well deserved) or even demand to know why they’re here. Instead, he just nods knowingly before opening the door wider to let everyone through.

“You’re here about the Olympian Crystal,” the Apprentice says as they file past into his little parlor. It’s a statement, a fact, not a question. He knows this, and is just waiting for everyone else to realize it.

“Yes, actually,” Killian replies. A not-insignificant part of himself wants to know how exactly the Apprentice knew what they were here for, but it seems rude somehow to ask. Looking through their little crowd, his companions seem to be wondering the same thing, if their confused expressions are anything to go by - Regina being the obvious exception, far too regal and refined for such emotional transparency. The man is a powerful magician; who are they to demand an explanation for his methods?

Thankfully, the old man seems to sense their puzzlement. “My master’s book of prophecies has foretold many things, both in life and now in death,” he explains. Ah, yes, Merlin. Killian had been impressed, if somewhat intimidated, by the man’s powers of foresight in Camelot; with so many centuries on his hands, it makes a certain amount of sense that he put some of his visions down to paper for his Apprentice’s reference. “Please, sit,” he offers, sweeping an arm towards the old fashioned upholstered chairs. “I assume you have many questions.”

“Yes, actually,” Snow replies, apparently taking the lead in this conversation. That might be for the best, actually; she has more tact than any of the rest of them. “What exactly  _ is _ this Crystal? We’ve only just learned of the existence of the myths surrounding it.”

“And what did those legends say?”

“That it has the power to defeat Hades,” Emma replies, cutting to the point. Never one to mince words, his love. “And it’s a real thing? Not just a story?”

“It’s a real thing,” the Apprentice confirms, “one of Zeus’ thunderbolts made into solid form. Its efficacy against a god has never been tested, and so is yet to be seen, but I can tell you this for certain: it’s a powerful tool with the power of life and death.”

“Does that mean we could use it to help Killian?” Henry asks eagerly. Killian and Emma both lean forward in anticipation of the answer, as if the closer proximity will give them better - or at least faster - news. Could this be it, the solution to their problem?

“In the right hands, yes,” the Apprentice agrees. Even that conditional agreement makes Killian’s heart race with hope. “It is beyond my knowledge how to use it, however. I assume that it’s a conduit of some kind - a tool to amplify magic, a divine wand.”

“We can work with that,” David nods, his face set in determination. This must have been how he looked back in the Enchanted Forest as the consort of a bandit princess - a solid born leader. “Emma’s the Savior - if any magic could activate the powers of the Crystal, it’d be hers.”

“And do you know where it is?” Emma asks, steering the conversation back on topic. 

“The book says that when it fell from Olympus, it landed in the River of Lost Souls. Unfortunately, it was less illustrative as to the specifics of where in the River.”

“And I suppose that’s the toxic river we already had to deal with to rescue Hook in the first place,” Regina deadpans, eliciting a nod of confirmation from the Apprentice. “Excellent.”

“Yeah but if this is the thing that can bring Killian back with us —” Emma starts to argue, before Regina cuts her off. 

“Yes, that’s fine, don’t jump down my throat. I’m not suggesting we don’t pursue this, I’m just saying that it’s going to be difficult. Remember the part where the waters basically steal your soul and wipe your memories?”

“I don’t suppose you have a solution for that?” Killian asks the Apprentice, quickly redirecting before Emma and Regina can snipe at each other any more.

The other man just shakes his head in the negative though, sending a chill through Killian’s lifeless veins. “So what, that’s a one-way trip for someone?”

“Perhaps the Crystal can undo the River’s damage, but that’s never been tested, of course,” the old man explains.

“And there’s no other way?” Belle asks. 

“There’s tales of an ambrosia bush, but it’s been lost for centuries. Even Merlin’s records don’t offer any clue to its whereabouts.”

“And I can’t just… write it into existence?” Henry cuts in.

“That’s beyond the abilities of the Author. Your job is merely to record. Argue all you like,” he tells the collected group, “but this is the  _ best way _ as things currently stand.”

“Yes, but it’s not actually a viable option, you see, because  _ we’re not sacrificing anyone _ ,” Killian explains, his patience officially having run out. “We’ll just have to find this ambrosia bush, then, because —”

“I’ll do it.”

All heads snap towards Liam at the sound of his voice. Surely he didn’t just say what Killian thinks he said? As they stare at him in shock, however, he repeats the words with even more firmness and determination. “I’ll do it. I’ll retrieve the Crystal.”

“Liam, you can’t —” Killian tries to protest, but it gets him nowhere.

“I’m the expendable one here, Brother,” he reminds Killian. “You and I are the only ones not living, and we’ve got to get you home. It has to be me.” More quietly, he adds a private plea for Killian’s ears only. “Let me do this, Killian. Let me make up for the hurt I’ve caused.”

“I can’t let you do it this way,” Killian insists. Of course he’s been furious with Liam, and still is in many ways, but this? This is going too far. This could turn Liam into a shade of himself if it fails.

“You have to, Killian. It’s the only way. Though I wouldn’t say no if your lady love were to cast some sort of protection spell,” he jokes in an attempt to lighten to mood. It doesn’t work, not in the least. 

“He’s right,” Regina says. “We’ll try the protection spell, but as much as I hate to admit it, Captain Jones is right. He’s the one we can spare.”

(Killian especially hates hearing it from Regina, and especially like that - like his brother is just some tool to be used and disposed of.)

As much as Killian’s heart screams in protest at the thought of his brother sacrificing himself to possibly become nothing more than an empty shell, another permanent farewell, his head knows they’re right. It’s the only way, and if Killian wants to return to his future in the living world, he’s going to have to accept that sacrifice. 

“It’s the only way,” he echoes softly, nodding in resignation. 

He may be mad at his brother, but he never wanted this. 

———

The cave system beneath the Underworld through which the River of Lost Souls flows is cold and damp, fostering a foreboding air as the chill sinks into all their bones. The otherworldly green glow of the River’s waters doesn’t help matters either, making the whole thing feel even more nightmarish in an already unworldly place. Curiously, it reminds Killian of the catacombs he once saw in a far off land, so long ago that he can’t remember the name anymore. The glimpse of metal structuring or the stone ledges carefully carved out of the rock is a bare reminder of human presence in this empty space - that this is somehow a place built by people, but not truly intended for them. The only word for it, truly, is  _ eerie _ .

It takes less time to find the Crystal than expected - only a day and a half of searching - but they seem to simultaneously pass in a blink and stretch on forever. They’d divided into small groups to punt up and down the waterways - Killian, Emma, and her parents in one boat with Regina, Robin, and Liam in the other. There’d been some debate about the divide - David in particular had wanted to be in the other boat, seemingly wanting to keep a closer eye on Liam. That’s reasonable, Killian supposes, after everything that had been revealed earlier that day. It takes a good deal of scolding from both Emma and Snow to convince him to climb into their skiff, all capped off by a very charming “You’re being ridiculous, Dad, get over here before you piss Mom off even more. You’re coming with us.”

(Whatever works, right?)

Still, the squabbling is a waste of time. One thing they can all agree upon, however, is to keep Henry as far away from the search as possible. No one knows exactly what those waters would do to a living being, and they don’t care to find out - especially not with Henry. No one wants him anywhere near that water. Instead, he’s persuaded to stay up above with Belle, doing research about how to use this Crystal once they find it. Henry’s not happy about it, but he agrees eventually - especially when it becomes obvious that no one is caving. Ultimately, Killian thinks the only reason Henry goes without anymore fuss is that he’s tasked with the responsibility of watching over Belle and the baby, and especially of ensuring that Zelena doesn’t try to stage a kidnapping in Robin and Regina’s absence or otherwise betray them. Whatever it takes, Killian tells himself, and at least this lets the lad feel helpful. They’re not all disconnected from each other anyways - Regina rigs up a system of handheld mirrors to talk to each other in case problems arise or one of the parties actually finds the Crystal.

It’s Regina’s party that ultimately locates the bloody thing, somehow glowing even brighter underneath the murky green of the River of Souls. Ultimately, they decide to wait until the next morning to attempt to retrieve the Crystal itself, due both to time and the need to form a more concrete plan,  and instead head home to rest . There’s a lot of discussion that night, none of which Killian particularly likes - especially since it relies on Emma casting a protection spell over Liam.

“That’s not my  _ expertise _ ,” Regina sniffs when Killian suggests she do it herself.  “Savior magic would be much more effective in this circumstance.”

Savior magic or not, though, the fact remains that magic has exhausted Emma since she became pregnant. There’s no hospital down here to go to if she passes out again, and Killian is terrified of something happening.

“It’ll be fine,” Emma tries to reassure him quietly, squeezing his hand in an attempt at comfort. “It’ll just be a moment and then you can make me rest.”

Under other circumstances, maybe Killian would try to argue or find another way, but the fact of the matter is that they’ve been backed into a corner. This is the only plan they have to rescue him from the Underworld, and the only way they can both retrieve the Crystal and offer Liam some marginal protection from the danger of the green waters is to draw upon Emma’s powers. There’s no other way. When Emma insists that she can do it, too, there’s even less point in trying to argue. It’s just how things will have to be. 

Killian sits up for a drink with Liam that night, the last before Gods only know what will happen. It’s impossible to find the right words to say, though:  _ I wish things were different? I don’t know if I forgive you, but I want to try? Thank you for what you’re about to do? I never needed you to make up for your actions in this way? I’ve never needed a hero, just a brother?  _ Ever since Liam’s betrayal, Killian has been a mess of emotions, and his brother’s volunteering to retrieve the Crystal, more than likely at his own peril, has only added more conflicting feelings to the mix. This is the brother he remembers from his youth - the born leader, the man who’d rather put himself in danger before anyone else, but it seems almost disingenuous. Too little, too late and all that.

Still, as Liam drops his head after dragging minutes of silence, rising to deposit his glass in the sink, Killian feels that rush of panic that this might be the last time. “Liam…” he starts, forcing himself to try one last time to say everything on his mind, maybe find some sort of closure with the brother he’s idolized more than anyone only for him to let Killianhim down more than anyone elseever has. It doesn’t work; the words don’t magically appear upon his tongue, and his words trail off into nothing.

Nevertheless, Liam smiles and drops his hand to pat Killian’s shoulder. “I know, Brother,” he assures. And maybe he does. Liam was always good at understanding the words unsaid, and something about his face says that he sees all the mess of love and hurt and anger and worry on Killian’s own visage.

It doesn’t make things any easier when the fateful moment comes and Liam stands at the edge of the stone landing, stripped out of his shoes and coat and tying the end of a rope around his waist. It had been decided that, should worst come to worst, they’d need a way to retrieve Liam, with or without the Crystal. It’s entirely possible that due to the water’s properties, he could reach the Crystal and just forget to swim back up. In fact, there’s so many ways that this could go wrong, but Killian is trying not to think of any of them. Trying.

(Failing. All his fault…)

A small blessing is that Emma had cast a protection spell around Liam without any problems. Killian had hovered anxiously at her side, just in case she’d become faint again, but it had been unnecessary. Put it down to a good breakfast or her previous abstinence from using magic. At Killian’s pestering, she’d admitted that her magic, that well of power within her she’s never been able to fully describe, feels depleted, but as close as he’s watching, it hasn’t seemed to exhaust her body and mind along with it.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” she smiles, squeezing his forearm affectionately, and he doesn’t have any reason not to believe that. Before she can drop her hand back down to her side, Killian quickly catches it, lacing their fingers together and squeezing back as he turns towards his brother.

“You don’t have to do this,” Killian offers one last time as Liam eyes the glowing green waters and the Crystal sunken beneath them.

Liam exhales a breath before turning to face Killian. “You know I do.” The silence of so many words unsaid, so many things they  _ could _ say and  _ should _ say and  _ need _ to say hangs heavy in the air. Everyone else has the tact to give them a little space. Liam breaks the oppressive stillness to pull Killian into an almost aggressive hug. “I love you, Brother,” he whispers fiercely.

And really, that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? Beneath everything else Killian is feeling right now, he loves Liam. Always has, always will. That’s all that matters, especially now in what might be their last moments together is this goes poorly. “I love you too,” he whispers back into the flesh of Liam’s shoulder, the spot he always used to rest his head as a young lad, fighting the tears that threaten to fall.

When they break apart, Liam nods briskly, his face settling again into an expression of determination as he turns towards the rest of their little group. “Are you ready with the rope?” he asks.

“Whenever you are, Captain,” Robin promises with his usual good humor.

“No sense in waiting, then,” Liam concludes. And with a final brave smile in Killian’s direction, he executes a neat dive into the River.

It feels like an eternity, watching Liam dive ever deeper towards the bottom of the riverbed. Killian feels like he’s holding his breath the entire while, disregarding the fact that he no longer has any breath to hold. It’s terrifying to watch. The Crystal doesn’t appear to be too far below the surface, but Liam keeps swimming and swimming and reaching and reaching and never quite getting there. All the while, they can see Emma’s protective spell spark and fizzle, visibly disintegrating under the erosion of the waters. Even as Killian thinks it, he spots pieces flaking off and floating to the surface even as Liam is still forced to keep going. It feels like watching his brother die right before his eyes  _ again _ , and Killian can’t do a damn thing to stop it.

By some miracle, though, Liam keeps going. They all stand ready by the rope, ready to pull him back up, but his brother doesn’t show any signs of the confusion the River of Souls could visit upon him. Maybe this could work, maybe all hope isn’t lost —

And it isn’t. Liam grabs onto the Crystal and Killian lets out all that breath he’d been holding unnecessarily, slumping forward with relief. Below the surface, Liam kicks off from the bottom and swims for the surface, ascending at what seems a much quicker pace than his descent. That may just be an illusion though; Killian knows how time can drag when faced with that kind of dread.

Liam breaks the water’s surface with a grin, shaking his head and sending droplets flying. “It seems there might be some truth to the stories about this thing,” he declares. “It certainly healed me.”

Killian lurches forward to envelop his brother in a desperate hug as soon as Liam is back on dry land. He can’t even bring himself to be bothered by the way Liam is no doubt soaking his clothes, so great is his relief. “Thank the gods it did,” he mutters. “Thank the gods you’re okay.”

“Of course I am, Brother,” Liam whispers back. “You thought I could leave you again?”

Killian holds tight for a moment longer before a pointed clearing of Regina’s throat breaks them apart. “Can we return to less humid ground now that we have the damn thing? Or are you two planning to stay down here for the foreseeable future?”

“After you, Your Majesty,” Killian gladly cedes. As they all settle back in the boats to make their way back towards the elevator and upper surface of the Underworld, Killian gladly pulls Emma into his side, dropping a kiss on the crown of her hair and drawing comfort from her presence. Finally,  _ finally _ there’s a glimmer of hope that they might actually be able to save him.

When the elevator doors open, however, it’s to reveal their worst case scenario: Hades himself standing between the doors and where Belle is trying to protect Henry with her very body.

“So good of you to show up!” the god oozes. “Have I got a proposition for you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger, guys. Also sorry for making our fave couple fight - they kinda got away from me. I made Liam earn that redemption though instead of just having it handed to him, so hopefully you liked that.
> 
> I'm about halfway done with Chapter 4, so I'm hoping to get that up in the next couple of weeks. The angst just keeps on coming, guys. 
> 
> Also posted on tumblr, where I'm @shireness-says and STILL greedy for notes. Come make some noise.
> 
> Thanks for all the love you've given this AU - can't wait to share more with you!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead! Brace yourselves. I hope you like it, regardless!

Seeing Hades standing in the library, threatening the boy Killian views as a son, is the stuff of nightmares. Killian so distinctly remembers every blow, every cut, every bruise inflicted upon him in the god’s cavernous lair; he remembers, despite Hades’ suave exterior, exactly how furious he got when Killian refused to beg for mercy. It makes Killian’s blood run even colder within his dead veins to see that same… demon masquerading as man anywhere near Henry.

Hades mentioned a proposition, but Killian isn’t interested. “We’re not interested in  _ deals _ , tyrant,” he growls back.

The god only hums though, like he’s got a secret. It just might worry Killian even more than the deal itself. “Are you sure? You might think differently once you have all the information. Reconsider, if you will.” Hades rolls his eyes as Belle pulls Henry further behind her across the room. “Honestly, you’ve got to stop that. What, you think I’m going to smite the kid down? Not my style.”

“What aren’t you telling us?” David demands, ignoring their enemy’s flat attempt at reassurance. Killian’s wondering the same thing - Emma’s father has always just been a bit more blunt about things. Not one for banter, that one.

“I’m sure you’ve discovered my lovely gift already? The personalized headstones? I’ve always been one for that  _ personal _ touch, you know.” Hades, on the other hand, prefers to yammer away, in love with theatrics and the sound of his own voice. Killian would much rather he just get to the bloody point. “As time’s gone by, though, I’ve really found myself thinking I just didn’t do quite enough. I mean, you’ve got a child with you! How rude of me not to cater to the youth!”

“You didn’t,” Regina growls, as realization slowly dawns on all of them.  _ Oh, gods _ . Killian feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh, but I did,” Hades confirms, smiling that slimy grin at the collected crowd as Belle instinctively holds Henry tighter. “Like I said: I don’t need to do any of that messy smiting business. Not when I can just add dear Henry’s name to one of those monuments. Neater, don’t you think?”

“You son of a bitch,” Killian spits. Only Emma’s tight grip on his hand and Liam throwing a cautionary arm across his chest keeps him from throwing himself at Hades, and he can spot the same blazing rage in everyone’s eyes. “I’ll kill you, I swear I will, you demon.”

“Good luck with that,” Hades replies, rolling his eyes. “We can either go that route - which won’t work, by the way, in case you’ve haven’t forgotten our lovely little interlude on my home turf before - or you can listen to my proposition.”

“We’re listening,” Liam says, casting a warning look in Killian’s direction.  _ Hear him out, _ he’s silently saying.  _ Know what you’re up against _ .

“The way I see it, you’ve got something I want, and I’ve got something you want. So, just give me the Olympian Crystal, and I’ll be happy to wipe all those headstones clean. Hell, I’ll even throw in a portal to get you all home in, say,” he makes a great show of looking at an oversized watch, “two hours.”

It’s a good deal, Killian knows. There had always been some uncertainty around how they would escape the Underworld once they had found a way to revive him, and now that Henry has been tossed into this mess… well, that’s non-negotiable. Henry’s safety, the safety of  _ both _ his children comes before anything else. Killian would gladly throttle Hades with his bare hands, but not at Henry’s expense.

Emma’s always been an all-or-nothing type of woman, however. “And Killian?” she demands.

“Well, I can’t let a soul that’s rightfully mine just waltz out of here, you know. It’s just not good for business. I think I’ve been more than generous,” the god protests.

Emma looks like she’s about to snap and turn down the deal, but Killian interrupts before she gets the chance. “Give us a moment to talk.”

“Oh, of course. Important decisions, I understand. I’ll just be over here,” Hades says, poofing himself into one of the library chairs.  _ Showoff _ . With their threat sedately seated to the side, crossing his legs in a deceptively casual manner, Belle and Henry take this moment to dart across the room to where everyone else is standing. Killian draws Henry into his arms just as soon as he’s close enough. The poor lad looks pale and worried, and all Killian wants is to alleviate that concern as much as he can.

(It also might be one of the last times Killian holds his boy if they take this deal like he thinks they should, but Killian is trying not to think about that yet.)

“You can’t seriously be thinking about taking Hades’ deal,” Emma hisses. “We are not leaving without you.”

“I’m more than thinking about it; I’ve made my decision. Emma, love, we’ve got to take his deal, it’s the only way,” he begs. 

“I refuse to accept that. We came down here to  _ save _ you, Killian, and I don’t intend to give up.”

“Emma,  _ please, _ ” he begs. “I love you, and I want to come home with you more than anything, but things have changed. It’s been bad enough to have your name on one of those tombstones, but Henry’s… I can’t live with myself, knowing that he’s trapped down here when there was another way to make sure you’re all safe. Henry’s safety has to be non-negotiable.” Killian looks around for support, desperate for any backup.

He finds it in an unexpected place. “He’s right, Emma,” Snow, the queen of hope herself, says softly. “We don’t have a plan for getting out of here, not really, and we definitely don’t have a way to remove our names from the headstones. This would solve both. I know you don’t want to leave Killian behind - none of us do, sweetheart. But you have to think of Henry, and the baby, and what’s best for them.”

“If we accept this, though… we give up our chance to save Killian,” Emma whispers, tears pooling at the bottom of her eyes and starting to slip down her cheeks. Killian can’t help but reach out to catch those tears; it’d be working against every instinct he possesses to deny that impulse to try and ease her pain.

“Actually,” Belle cuts in, “that might not be strictly true.” All eyes turn her direction, by turns curious and hopeful. “Henry and I think we found another way. I don’t want to say anything with Hades right over there but… we think there’s another way.”

“And it’s doable in that 2 hour window?” Robin asks.

“I believe so.”

“There’s really no question then, my love,” Killian says, just for Emma. Privately, he’s less hopeful about this last chance, but he can’t say that now, when his love is looking for any excuse to refuse the bargain. “Accept Hades’ deal. It’ll all work out, somehow.”

“I love you,” she says with a wobbly smile.

“And I you, my Swan.”

It feels like one of the ridiculous sports games Dave once forced him to watch as they uncluster from their tight huddle again. If not for the circumstances, it might almost make Killian laugh. But the circumstances  _ are _ what they are, and it’s impossible to really embrace the humor when they’re about to possibly go bargain his resurrection away.

“So if we give you the stupid Crystal, you’ll let us go?” Emma demands, grasping Killian’s hand and refusing to let go. “Names cleared, one portal, no loopholes?”

“No loopholes,” Hades promises. The bastard even has the gall to look insulted at the implication he’d play anything but fair. “I’m a deity of my word, you know. I’ll even toss in a couple extra minutes to say goodbye, free of charge, just so the expiration lands on a nice neat quarter hour. Give me the Crystal, and the portal will open at 8:15pm.”

Emma still hesitates. Killian can understand that; even if they both know what must happen, putting that officially into motion is still hard. He squeezes her hand - in solidarity, in encouragement, in love, in everything else, and with a final nod, Emma finally takes the plunge.

“We’ll take your deal, then.”

“ _ Excellent _ ,” Hades grins, even such a happy gesture dripping with ooze on him. “I’ll take my prize, then.”

After a last pause, Emma reluctantly hands the Crystal over. In Hades’ hands, it briefly glows as if suddenly activated before becoming just a hunk of rock again. Killian tries to comfort himself with the fact that maybe that glow means they wouldn’t have been able to use the Crystal after all, even if it was still in their possession; it doesn’t work very well. The god waves his other hand in an almost dismissive gesture once he has the crystal, and what feels like a ripple of power chases through the room. That must have been him removing the headstones; Killian sure hopes so, otherwise they’re all doubly screwed.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” quips Hades. “Your portal will open an hour before in the cemetery and close at 8:15 on the dot, no transfers, no take backs, only one small carry-on allowed, take only pictures, leave only footprints, yada yada yada. Have a nice life.” And with another hand gesture, he disappears in a puff of red-tinged smoke.

“Well that was excessive,” Regina comments dryly. That might be the understatement of the year. “Now, Henry, what did you and Belle discover?”

“We think we figured out where the ambrosia bush is!” Henry bursts out, the excitement of his accomplishment practically seeping from his pores.

“Well done, lad!” congratulates Killian, slinging an affectionate arm around his boy’s shoulders. 

“Not to be the skeptical one here, because I really do hope you have, but what makes you think you’ve discovered the ambrosia bush, Henry?” Robin asks. He truly doesn’t mean it as a criticism, Killian knows; Robin is just a practical sort, a man who likes having a plan before he rushes into a situation, unlike so many of these other heroes Killian’s thrown his lot in with. 

Belle smiles though, as if to reassure Robin that no offense has been taken. “Well, we started thinking about all the places here in the Underworld and back in Storybrooke that are really significant. Like how Hades’ lair and the River of Souls are beneath the library. There were places we ruled out easily, like the diner or the well or Regina’s crypt, but then —”

“The mines!” Henry interrupts, before apologizing sheepishly to Belle. “We just thought… you know, the fairy dust comes from the mines. That’s, like, one of the town’s sources of magic. So we got to thinking… what if they’re hiding some other natural magic?”

“There are some curious stories about the mines,” Liam adds thoughtfully. “People have been known to go in and not come back out. It stands to reason.”

“We looked at the maps, and found a dead-end tunnel,” Belle continues. “There was also a mention in one of the books about some odd mechanisms in one of the tunnels. We think perhaps it’s some sort of door.”

“Perhaps to a secret, fabled plant,” Killian finishes. “Brilliant, lass.” It’s a long shot, certainly, but it’s also the best lead they have - especially when they’ve got a two hour time limit and no other options.

“Okay, so Killian and I will go see about the ambrosia, while the rest of you collect our things. And, you know, the baby and Zelena. We’ll meet you in the cemetery.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Emma’s father asks. “You two going off on your own like that?”

“Maybe it’s not, but someone needs to keep an eye on Henry, and I remember how tightly you stuffed those backpacks when we came down in the first place. We’ll be fine,” Emma replies.

“Are you sure?” Snow cuts in. “Your father or I would be happy to come with you —”

“It’s  _ fine _ , Mom. Seriously, we’ll meet you by Regina’s crypt when we’re done.”

Somehow, she manages to convince Snow to leave and follow Regina and Robin out. Before Henry trails along after, Killian pulls him into a tight embrace. 

“I’m proud of you, my boy,” he whispers into Henry’s hair. Gods willing, the ambrosia will be exactly where Henry and Belle think it is, will be the answer to all their prayers, but Killian’s not taking any chances. If worst comes to worst, and this is the last time he sees Henry, Killian wants to imprint every detail into his very soul.

“Thanks,” Henry mumbles back, before pulling back with determination glinting in his eyes. “It’s going to work, you know. It has to.”

“Ah, well of course it will if the Truest Believer decrees it so,” Killian smiles back, forcing all of his worry down to give Henry this moment. “Now, why don’t you go ask that brother of mine about the time he sent us all chasing after a sea monster?”

Henry happily leaps off to catch up to where Liam waits at the door. Catching his brother’s eye, they exchange nods. Liam will keep an eye on the lad, make sure he doesn’t run off into any foolhardy side quests. 

“A sea monster?” Emma asks at his side, her tone somewhere between confusion and amusement.

“A particularly clever dolphin, as it turns out,” he explains. “At the time Liam was absolutely convinced we had discovered some mystical new creature. Blatantly abused his new power as captain to go chasing the bloody thing. You didn’t want your parents’ assistance?” he volleys back.

“I mostly wasn’t in the mood for some dramatic hope speech,” Emma admits. “Or Dad trying to, like, fight the door. Or something. I love them, but if time is of the essence or whatever you’d say…”

“I understand completely,” Killian chuckles. “We’ve always made a good team, you and I.” And they have - right from the beginning, even before the romance and the second chances and the deep, undying love, they’d always worked more effectively together than any other way. It should have been a sign, right there back on the beanstalk; Killian is only glad he embraced it before it was too late.

The trek from the library to the mine entrance is quicker than Killian expected, just down to the end of Main Street before walking down a wooded path. It’s probably overreacting to try and help Emma over and around every minor obstacle in their way - roots and stones and the like - but he does anyways, trying to infuse his love and concerned affection into every touch. If the way Emma smiles even as she rolls her eyes is any indication, she knows that already, has accepted it. Now is the time to hover, anyways; as much as Killian tries not to think about how these could be their last minutes together, it proves impossible to entirely banish that pesky little whispering voice from his head. Instead, he caters to the voice by trying to memorize every little detail of her hands - the little spots of dry skin between her fingers and the half-formed calluses where her fingers and palm meet and the odd little scar further down her palm that he knows is from a childhood tumble on rough gravel, not to mention the very specific way she likes to weave their fingers together (her pinky on the outside, always on the outside, or she’ll untangle them just to rearrange them the way she likes). He loves every part of her - every silly little detail that seems so frivolous and unimportant to anyone else but is  _ everything _ to him.

( _ She’s _ everything to him. Gods, he hopes this works, because he’s tried an afterlife without her already and could barely stand it. He doesn’t know what he’ll do, if this doesn’t work.)

The mines themselves are a dark series of tunnels carved into what must have been an existing cave that mostly remind Killian of why he’s glad to be a man of the seas. Even with the electrical switch flipped to switch on a rickety, buzzing series of bulbs, the atmosphere is cloying and claustrophobic, every surface rough from where the tunnels were hewn directly from the stone.

“Careful, love,” he cautions, carefully making his way down ahead of her to test for uneven ground.

Her returning eye roll is less affectionate this time. “I’ve been down to the mines before, Killian,” she reminds him. “Remember how I slayed a dragon? I’m fine.” 

The words are rather undermined by a subsequent stumble, making Killian huff in fond exasperation. Bloody stubborn woman. At least it’s an excuse to draw Emma in close against his side - for safekeeping and for comfort.

“I don’t know how you think you’ll be able to handle the map like this,” she grumbles as Killian’s fingers begin stroking gently along her side, just in that place between her bony hip and the soft curve of the Bean.

“Simple. I’ll let you hold it instead,” he replies, only half jokingly. Time is of the essence, but handling the map seems like such a waste when he could be imprinting the feel of her skin between every ridge of his fingertips.

“Smartass,” she mutters with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

It’s the easiest thing in the world, even facing such a terrifying uncertainty, to drop a soft kiss on the side of Emma’s head. “And you love me for it.”

“I do,” she sighs dramatically, before stretching to kiss the back ridge of his jaw in turn. It’s always been one of her favorite spots when it’s just the two of them. Killian pulls Emma even closer against his side as she does so, closing his eyes to better savor the moment.

(It’s not the last, it’s not the last, it can’t possibly be the last… but what if it is? What if he’s forced to live off the memory of her soft lips against the corner of his jaw for the rest of eternity?)

The darkness and close quarters of the mine become no less cloying the deeper they travel, and Killian finds himself clinging to Emma not just for her own safety, but to impart a sense of security to himself as well. In the cave-like environment, the only constants are her warmth against his side and the rocky path they walk along continuously sloping downwards. The map proves to be a blessing as tunnels split again and again, creating a confusion of passageways they’d never have been able to navigate without Henry and Belle’s careful charting. Eventually, the bulbs run out when they get too deep into the maze of the mine, replaced instead by torches, somewhat reminiscent of his and Emma’s little adventure to the past and to Regina’s dungeons. By some miracle, Killian finds a bar matchbook in one of his jacket’s pockets, keeping Emma from having to use her magic. She’s grown more confident again in its use, and more convinced the worst of her exhaustion spells are over, but Killian is decidedly less persuaded. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to his love and the Bean all the way down here. Emma may roll her eyes at the way he frantically starts patting at pockets until he finds the matches, but it really does make him feel better about the situation. Once one is lit, it’s just a matter of continuing to light wall torches along the rest of their way as necessary until they reach the end of their journey through the mines.

Their path finally leads to an elevator, of all things. The walls are even closer down here, barely excavated, and as they squeeze past a last outcropping before the chamber widens for the elevator doors, it’s easy for Killian to understand how this isn’t common knowledge. It’s not something anyone would stumble across on accident by any means. Curiously, he notes that the elevator itself looks an awful lot like the one in the library, both down here and up above in the real world. It’s obvious that contrary to appearances, there is some greater design to this place, even if just in the initial structure.

Killian has some mild concern about the stability of the car, but when he cautiously steps a foot in and allows his weight to shift onto the metal platform, it holds without issue, barely shifting at his weight. Reassured as to the safety of the conveyance, he can finally reach back for Emma. “Milady?” he offers with a smile as he extends a hand back in her direction. It’s such a small thing, but so worth it for the laugh Emma emits as she grasps his hand and boards the elevator car. He’ll do anything to hear that laugh.

“I hope you know how to work this thing,” she jokes, “because I sure as hell don’t.”

It’s easy enough to operate, as things turn out. Though there is a hand crank attached to one wall, the car begins its descent as soon as the cage gate is closed, eliminating the need for any effort on their part. That’s a relief, frankly - Killian’s not sure how well he would have been able to turn the crank with just his one hand, and allowing Emma to do it herself is far out of the question, at least if Killian has any say in it. It feels like the ride downwards takes forever, despite the surprisingly rapid speed, but they pass it in silence, Killian choosing to express himself in the soft rub of his thumb against the back of Emma’s hand as they descend rather than with words.

It’s damn near impossible to see more than a foot beyond their faces when the elevator opens, even with the torch held aloft, but as he and Emma begin lighting the other torches conveniently spread along the walls, he’s pleased to discover that they’re in a wide open space. The persistent feeling of dread still niggles within his empty chest, but the greater space at least helps abate the feeling that the entire world is collapsing in on him, ready to crush him and Emma deep within the earth. A massive set of doors dominates one side of the doors, covered

with intricate metalwork; the lack of evident hinges would suggest that the portal opens inwards, away from the chamber they currently inhabit, but when Killian experimentally presses against the panels, he’s met with resistance. From the feel of things, the door is barred from the opposite side. He shouldn’t be surprised, really; if the contents of the inner chamber are as powerful as they’re rumored to be, a plant with the power to restore life back to the dead,  it would stand to reason that there would be some challenge or test to acquire it. 

Perhaps that’s where the other device in the room comes in - a set of scales upon a circular table, this one with words in a foreign script encircling the edge.

“Of course it can’t be in plain English,” Emma mutters, frowning ferociously at the inscription. When Killian gets closer though, something triggers in his head - half-remembered lessons from long ago.

“Only a heart filled with true love may pass,” he recites, the translation springing to his tongue more quickly than he anticipated.

“You can read… whatever that is?” Emma asks, raising a questioning eyebrow. He’s always liked to think she picked that up from him.

“Ancient Greek,” he clarifies. “You’d be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy.”

“Show-off,” she teases back affectionately. He hadn’t translated the words just to impress her, but as with everything in his life - afterlife? once, always, forever - it’s a lovely little side effect, the way her eyes widen in surprise and appreciation and she smiles like she’s proud of him. He loves that smile; he’d do a lot of things to see that smile. “Ok, well if that’s the case…” she trails off, before shaking out her hands and exhaling a heavy breath. He’s seen that body language before; it usually means she’s trying to ramp herself up to perform some massive feat of magic.

“Hold on a moment, love, what exactly are you doing?” he asks as gently as he can, attempting to disguise the naked alarm in his voice.

Emma just looks at him oddly. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Honestly, darling, I’m not at all sure. Humor a man.”

“Only a heart filled with true love may pass. We need a heart. So, you know,” she waves a hand around, “I’ve got to extract mine real quick.”

“Absolutely not,” Killian protests. With the baby at stake, and Emma’s own exhaustion… absolutely not. There’s no way in hell he’ll allow it, no pun intended.

Emma just rolls her eyes in response. In other circumstances, Killian might find the gesture a little endearing in how quintessentially  _ her _ it is, but this isn’t one of those moments. “Ok, well, what’s your idea, then? Because last I checked, you don’t have one right now.”

“That doesn’t mean you should just… reach in your chest and yank your own out!” he fires back. “There’s got to be another way.”

“What, with —” Emma checks the watch on her wrist, “sixty-five minutes left?” She fixes Killian with a pointed look, a  _ what’s your brilliant idea, genius?  _ look, until Killian finally sighs out his defeat. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I still don’t like it, Emma,” he replies more quietly. “I don’t want to put you in harm’s way any further than I already have, not to mention the babe. And I don’t...” He pauses, trying to collect all his worried thoughts into something resembling sense. “I believe we’re true love, and I certainly hope we are, but we can’t know that, Emma. What happens if we’re wrong? How do you know that this won’t all blow up in our faces?”

“I don’t,” she replies simply. “I just have to have faith that it will be fine,” Emma explains, turning to face Killian and grasping his hand. “See?” And without any further ado, she plunges her other hand into her own chest, wincing slightly as her hand disappears to the wrist. It’s all of Killian’s worst nightmares come to life, watching the woman he loves wince in pain as her heart is dislodged from its home beneath her breastbone. Even if he knows, consciously, that Emma’s in no real peril, that she’s removing such a vital organ herself, it brings back horrible memories of Milah’s death and sends panic rippling through his veins. Desperately, Killian tries to remind himself of the gentleness with which she held his own heart after the debacle with Gold and the Spell of Shattered Sight; surely, she’d treat her own heart with the same gentleness she’d granted his.

(Then again, she  _ did _ also all but slam his heart back into his chest immediately afterwards. ‘Like a bandaid’, his arse; he’s still positive that the gesture was Emma’s own little revenge for all the worry he put her through, not that he can argue if it’s true.)

Emma seems blissfully unaware of the way the ghost of his heart has climbed into Killian’s throat, extracting her hand again with her jewel-red organ beating within her grasp. “See? Fine.” 

He has to give her that, honestly; Emma isn’t even winded, and as nervous as it makes Killian to see his love’s heart outside of where it belongs in her chest, he has to say that it’s beautiful. Unlike his own heart, streaked through with dark wisps of all the terrible things he’s done in his long life, Emma’s is a brilliant crimson, mesmerizing to watch. He can just see the way it gently pulses within her palm, visibly calmer than anything he can muster at the moment.

Emma must notice the fascination with which he watches the beating muscle within her hands, as she holds her heart out to him. What symbolism. “Here, you take it,” she offers, practically shocking Killian out of his boots.

“Oh no, I couldn’t —” he tries to protest, but Emma’s always been a stubborn one, and before he knows it she’s grabbing his hand and tipping the pumping muscle into it. He cradles it against his chest on instinct, making sure to keep his hook arm far, far away; the last thing they need is for him to accidentally nick her heart as he tries to hold it. It’s precious, after all, and so small and fragile; as Killian cradles the organ to his body, there’s a passing, hysterical thought that if he actually makes it out of the Underworld, this kind of careful handling might be good practice for the Bean. He’s sure there’s panic in his eyes as he meets Emma’s gaze, but she just smiles back as if to calm him back down.

“I trust you,” she says simply, as if they’re not the biggest words in the world. Sure, he’s known on a certain level that she does indeed trust him, between the Wicked Witch and Camelot and  _ I’m going to choose to see the best in you _ , but it’s another thing to hear the words. She loves him, too, and the thought of that alone is enough to make Killian giddy, but love and trust are so often wildly different things, especially where his love is concerned; it leaves him a little bit in awe, knowing that he’s somehow earned it.

Maybe he’s overthinking things, though, as Emma just stands there expectantly as he’s bowled over by emotion. “You gonna put it on the scales?” she asks, jolting Killian into motion.

“As you wish.” He hadn’t known the significance of those words when he’d first told her that what feels like an eternity ago in Neverland, but after several movie nights in those blissful six weeks of peace, he does now. Now, when he says the words, he means them most emphatically:  _ I love you, I love you, I love you _ . She knows it, too, if the way she smiles just that little bit wider as he passes is any indication. That’s just as it should be; his Swan deserves to hear every iteration of those words, every day. 

At the scales themselves, he tips her heart onto the unweighted side ever so carefully before standing back to watch and wait - for what, he’s not sure. For the doors to open, he supposes. It all seems so  _ simple _ , though, and as the doors stay stubbornly closed, Killian wonders if this is the other shoe dropping, or if that’s yet to come.

Emma’s brows furrow in confusion. Killian can just see on her face that she’s already decided it’s impossible their love isn’t true, even as his own stomach plummets with the proof in front of them. “What the hell?” she mutters, stepping back towards the scales herself.

And that’s when it all really goes to hell.

Emma’s barely taken a step when she suddenly cries out in pain, hunching over and clutching at her chest as she gasps desperately for breath.

“Emma, what’s wrong?” he asks helplessly. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Love, tell me.” She’s obviously not alright, and they’re such stupid words, but they’re all he can come up with in the moment, too worried to pay much attention to sense.

“My… heart…” she manages to gasp out, reaching for the organ only to cry out again, seemingly struck by another attack.

Even in his panic, it’s easy enough to connect the dots that the scale is somehow doing this to Emma, putting her in indescribably pain - Gods, maybe even  _ killing _ her if he doesn’t do something  _ right this moment _ . He doesn’t think twice before moving to snatch her heart back to the relative safety of his grasp - Emma, at least, seems to think it’s safe there, even if Killian is less sure of that. He’s hasn’t even finished taking his first step in that direction, however, when he’s stopped by a column of fire, the flames surrounding him and trapping him within their hold. If he feels the flames on his extremities, it’s easily dwarfed by the burning pain that feel like it’s engulfing him from the inside, eating into his soul and heart and everything that makes him  _ him _ . He should be strong, suffer through it so Emma doesn’t have to add concern for him onto her own pain, but he can’t help the cry that slips out.

“Killian!” she gasps, her eyes widening with an even greater panic than before. 

“Get your heart, Emma,” he pleads. There’s something in those same eyes that makes him think she’ll do something drastic to save him at her own expense, and that just can’t stand. She may not think so, but he’s the expendable one here - it’s crucial that she live, that their babe live, even if he’s charred to a crisp right here where he stands. “Emma, get your heart! Your heart!”

He can see her shifting her gaze back and forth between the scales and himself, even as the flames leap higher and send another burst of unbearable pain through his entire being. Killian preoccupies himself praying to any god that will take pity on him that Emma will dive for her heart, save herself. It’s just two steps; at this point, he doesn’t even care if they never open the doors and reach the fabled ambrosia, as long as Emma’s okay. That’s all that matters - all that’s ever mattered, and if she’ll just take those steps, it’ll all be okay —

Instead, another body plows into him, knocking them both over. By some miracle, Killian manages to cushion her fall with his entire body. He could just shake her for choosing him over herself, his stubborn lass, but somehow the fact remains that the flames have disappeared and Emma’s chest only heaves with the exertion, not a slow suffocation. 

“Are you alright, love?” he asks again, holding her tight to his body with his hooked arm as his hand combs gently through her hair.

“I’m okay. What about you?”

He laughs a little at that, Emma’s inability to focus on the danger she herself was in for her worry over him. “Aye, love, I’m alright. I’m just fine.” Killian takes a moment just to smile at her, awed by everything she is, before he turns more serious. “You saved me.” He shouldn’t be surprised by that really; she’s been saving him in every conceivable way, ever since that very first moment when she pulled him from beneath a pile of corpses and showed him there were still things in the world worth believing in. Still, the knowledge that she saved  _ him _ , the unworthy pirate, continues to take his breath away.

“Of course I did,” Emma replies, her voice mildly chiding even as he can see her eyes sweep over his face as if she’s reassuring herself that he’s there.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“But I did,” she reminds him. “I love you.” Simple as that. Like that’s all the explanation needed, and maybe it is.

“And I you,” he echoes, the truth pulled from deep within his soul. “More than I’ll ever have the words to express.” As he draws her into a gentle kiss, something to reassure them both that they’re both still here, still fighting, they almost miss the heavy noise of the doors opening.

Almost.

Emma twists her head to the sign at the sound. “Was that…” she trails off, like she’s afraid to jinx it.

“Aye,” Killian breathes out in response. The proof is right in front of them, after all, the doors having opened to reveal a curved hallway already lit by torches.

“But how…”

“ _ Only a heart filled with true love may pass _ ,” Killian recites back. The meaning of those words is only now starting to really sink in; the doors opened for them, so that means they’re  _ true love _ , something he hadn’t even dared dream might be true. It nearly brings tears to his eyes, and he can’t help but let the awe leak into his voice. “You did it, love.”

“I guess so,” she agrees, still staring at the door in mild bewilderment. “But…  _ how _ ?”

“You chose me. That was the test.” Killian is kind of reasoning through it as he speaks, but that has to be it. That’s what makes sense. “You could have gone for your heart - should have, probably, but… you chose me. You chose  _ me _ .” The words will never stop amazing him. Gods,  _ true love _ .

Emma’s smile is a tender as he’s ever seen it as she strokes along his cheek. “Of course I did, babe,” she says once again. “There was never any question. We’re a team, remember? You and me. Giving up or leaving you like that was never an option.”

Killian sits up suddenly, unable to wait any longer to kiss Emma, his love, his  _ true  _ love. There’s a sweetness to the way their lips meet that’s almost reminiscent of the kiss that started this all, out on Granny’s patio after their time travel adventure. There’s no time to deepen it and turn this into a longer or more passionate encounter - not that this is the place for it, anyways, here on the dusty and rocky floor - but it had just proved impossible not to seal this moment with a kiss.

When they finally separate again, it’s only to rest their foreheads together, still breathing in the same air. Unfortunately, there’s no more time to spare. “Are you ready, my love?” He asks, still somewhat breathless. 

“Anything with you,” Emma promises right back, gripping onto his lapels for just a moment longer before they both move to stand up.

It’s hard not to set off down the hewn passageway with something approaching giddiness when Emma’s hand is enveloped within his own and a hope he had almost given up on bouncing around in his still-stopped heart. No matter how many times he’d sworn not to get his hopes up, tried to remind himself this was likely the end of everything, he can’t help it. They’re  _ true love _ , a fact that bears repeating over and over again. their child will be another product of true love, and it nearly makes him giggle like a child to think about how he or she will be a baby born of true love to a mother that’s herself born of her parents true love. It’s the most delightful and ridiculous statement he’s ever contemplated. 

All that hope and wonder, unfortunately, only makes the great fall all the harsher when they both turn the corner to see nothing but an obviously dead bush.

“No,” Emma whispers, her voice the auditory equivalent of whatever this sinking feeling in Killian’s stomach is. “No, there must be something.”

There’s not, though. The bush is just a gnarled mess of branches, no leaves, no flowers, no fruit, even if it’s surrounded by a prettier little golden fence than Killian’s seen in even the most ornate palace gardens. No, the ambrosia plant is clearly, unmistakably dead.

His Emma is a stubborn one, though, and has some of her mother’s unshakable hope - even if she doesn’t like admitting to it. She’s already pulled away from Killian, releasing his hand to stride over to the plant and start rooting around the edges of its soil bed, looking for Gods-only-know-what.

“There’s got to be something left,” she mutters, not quite under her breath in her desperation as she frantically searches. “Leaves or seeds or… something. Why aren’t you looking?” she demands abruptly, that panic back in her eyes again.

“There’s nothing to find, love,” Killian tries to tell her gently, even as his own heart is breaking. This is it; this is how their great search ends.

“Ok, well, if there’s nothing on this plant, there’s got to be another one, right?” she asks, more of that frenzy creeping into her voice as she stands back up and brushes her soil-covered hands off on her jeans. “There’s another plant, we’ve just got to find it.”

“ _ Where _ , love?” he all but begs, voice breaking on the endearment. “Look around you. There’s nowhere else another ambrosia bush would be hiding.” That much is painfully obvious to him. The chamber surrounding the bush, their last great hope, is perfectly circular and perfectly stone and gravel, the only other organic matter the dried straw fueling the ensorcelled torches. It’s only by a feat of magic, he’s sure, that the perfect circle of soil exists for the plant in the first place; there’s simply no other spot in the cavern that could support life. Emma may look all she likes, but as much as Killian wishes otherwise, she’ll never find anything. It’s just not possible.

Emma huffs in frustration, but it’s so easy for him to see the panic underneath it, especially with the way her eyes dart back and forth as if searching for another answer. “Ok, then, we try the heart split again. Now that my name isn’t on one of those fucking headstones anymore, there shouldn’t be a problem. It could still work.” Even as her hand starts moving towards her chest in a motion Killian hopes never to see again in his life - or afterlife, as it were - she sounds doubtful. And for good reason, too.

“No, love, it won’t,” he says as gently as he can.

“Why the hell not? It worked for my parents. You’ve seen David, he’s totally fine. We didn’t even know anything during the whole Wicked Witch debacle until they got their memories back.”

“Yes, but your father was dead for… not even two minutes. Barely longer than the time it took to split your mother’s heart. It’s been  _ months _ since I died, love, almost four of them,” Killian reminds her, sending his own dead heart plummeting into his boots in the process.

“There’s a preservation spell over your body, though,” she argues right back, picking up momentum. “It’s not like you’re… rotting away, or something.” The very idea of that is enough to make both of them wince.

“That doesn’t mean anything, unfortunately. You and I have both read the storybook, love; we’ve both seen what happened to Regina’s love, how poorly that turned out. He almost hurt Henry, and I won’t put any of you in danger, especially not from my hand. I won’t, love.”

“But we’re  _ true love _ ,” she insists. “Shouldn’t that make all the difference?”

Before Killian can even contemplate his response, the chamber around them starts rumbling, bits of sediment and small pebbles dislodging and raining down on both their heads. Hades must have opened the portal; the disturbance is too similar to what happened when Zelena arrived in the underworld for it to be anything else. The force up above shakes this whole realm to its very foundations, and Killian’s suddenly even more desperate to get Emma as far away from all this as possible - preferably out of this accursed in-between world all together. It’ll break his heart to say goodbye, but her safety, and that of Henry and the baby, is more important than any pain he might be feeling.

“We’ve got to get out of here, back to the surface, love,” he urges, half a plan forming in his mind as he ushers her reluctantly back towards the stone hallway. If he can just get her to the elevator… “It’s not safe.”

Emma casts a look back around the empty, dead chamber, but there’s no denying that he’s right, as larger chunks of stone start dislodging from the ceiling and tumbling down. 

The shaking had settled somewhat by the time they reach the elevator, but Killian still hurries Emma on board. There’s not much time left, after all - a few minutes less than an hour, if his timepiece is correct - and Emma will need every second she can get to make her way back through the tunnels, up to the surface, and over to the cemetery before the portal closes. Emma thankfully goes without complaint, even leading at turns, sensing the urgency of this all. 

That is, she goes without complaint until Killian steps back off the metal conveyance. 

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion at that. “What are you doing, babe? You said it yourself, we’ve got to go. No time to dawdle, or however you’d phrase it.” The corners of her lips even twitch upwards for moment; she clearly has no idea what he’s planning to do, and it sends another stab of guilt through his body. 

Killian swallows heavily in a last effort to muster the courage to follow through on this. “I’m not coming with you, love,” he reveals softly, sadly. 

That brings the frown back to her face and the panic back to her eyes. “No, that’s not right,” she argues. “You said —”

“I know what I said darling, that we were both getting out of here, but I lied.” He shakes his head in shame. “I’m sorry. I know I said I’d never do that to you, but I had to get you out of that chamber somehow. You’ve got to get to that portal.”

“Not without you,” she declares, stepping back towards Killian with fire in her eyes. There’s tears forming there too, though. “There’s still time, we can still figure something out—”

“No, we can’t. We’ve tried everything, love. This was our last last chance. And if we have to say goodbye… well, I’d rather it was down here, just the two of us. More privacy,” he tries to joke. It doesn’t work. 

“But I’m not ready,” Emma pleads. “It’s not enough time.”

“It’s more time than you and I were ever meant to have,” he reminds her. “And I’m so grateful for that. If you hadn’t come down to try and rescue me, I would have never known about our child. I would have never seen you again. Even if your efforts didn’t work to resurrect me, how can I regret a single moment of that borrowed time? Even if we have to part?”

“But I want you there. I want you to meet the baby, and be a father to Henry, and grow old with me.”

“That’s just not in the cards for us, my love,” he replies, voice breaking in the middle. Damn it all, he’s crying too, and he was supposed to hold himself together to try and make this easier. “But I have faith that you and Henry will remember me, and tell our son or daughter all about their father. Especially how much I’ve loved them, from the moment I knew they existed.”

Emma nods, ducking her head for a moment as if to collect herself. “I don’t know how to say goodbye,” she admits. 

“Then don’t,” he suggests. “This won’t be forever, just for now. Just for the moment.” A very long now and a very long moment, without any guarantee that he’s done enough to await Emma in a better place, he doesn’t say. “Promise me, though, that you won’t let my death keep you from a happy ending. You’ve still got so much life ahead of you, love. Let yourself be happy in it. I’ve been so proud to see you break down some of your walls; don’t build them back up just because I’m gone. Promise me that.”

“I promise,” she vows with tears in her eyes. “But you have to swear to me that you’ll move on with Liam, that you won’t wait here for me. Don’t let us be your unfinished business.”

“I promise.” He’s not sure it’s one he can keep, but he’ll try his very best. 

There’s no more excuses to wait any longer, and Killian carefully helps Emma back into the elevator, reaching up for the gate. Emma stops him before he can close it though, reaching through the bars to frame his face with both her hands. 

“I love you, Killian Jones,” she declares, one last time, with tears streaming down her face. 

“And I love you, my Swan.”

Their final kiss is slow and gentle, a kiss meant to soak into his very bones and linger with him for all the many years to come. Killian makes sure to stroke along her cheek and through her hair, hoping to engrain the sensations into his brain so he may never forget. This is their one last time, their final goodbye, and it seems crucial that he catalog every moment. 

All too soon, the kiss has so end, though, and with one last moment spend resting his forehead against her own, he draws the gate to clang shut. The elevator car lurches to life as soon as he does, slowly making its way upwards, and Killian quickly moves to tangle his fingers with Emma’s own. He doesn’t intend to let go until he absolutely has to. Seeing Emma shake with quiet sobs as the car pulls away, he moves on instinct, drawing her hand to his mouth for a kiss - one, two, three times before she’s carried out of his reach, in a last ditch effort to show his love exactly how precious she is. 

And then she’s gone, leaving Killian to his misery at the bottom of the mine. 

———

Liam comes to collect him some indeterminate amount of time later, after the shaking finally subsides. 

It doesn’t matter though. Nothing does anymore. 

She’s gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Firebird was the best episode of the arc, though, I couldn't not include it. I do promise a happy ending, and Chapter 5 will be up as soon as I can manage.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta, @snidgetsafan, even if she currently wants to kill me. Again: I promise I'll fix it.
> 
> Also posted on tumblr, where I'm @shireness-says. Come yell at me a bit, I deserve it.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you next chapter!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for all the angst! Hopefully I can fix it today. 
> 
> Thanks to @snidgetsafan for her beta skills, even when she's mad about what I wrote. Sorry, babe.
> 
> Enjoy!

Killian moves about the Underworld in a daze after Emma and her family leave. What’s the point of anything without her? 

He’d promised he wouldn’t let Emma and their what-might-have-beens be his unfinished business, but he doesn’t feel ready to move on yet either. Call it madness, or hopelessly waiting for a sign, but he still feels that buzz of anticipation running through his empty veins, like there’s still something’s coming - even if he can’t put his finger on exactly what that is. From what he understands of this light to the other side business, it won’t work until he’s ready anyways. There’s no point in forcing it.

(Now, stuck alone in the Underworld for the foreseeable future, it seems unbearably optimistic to have promised he would move on when he has to spend the rest of his eternity knowing that he has a child he’ll never meet. That’s the very definition of unfinished business. And yet, he’ll still do his very best to find a better place, if only because Emma asked it of him.)

When he’s not consumed by self pity, Killian tries to throw himself back into a routine. He bites the emotional bullet and dedicates his days to closing up both the Charmings’ loft and Regina’s mansion, making sure that everything is cleaned and the drop cloths are replaced on all the furniture to protect it - from what, he’s not sure, considering they don’t particularly have to worry about sunlight fading the fabrics, but it seems important regardless. That’s how they’d found things, after all. Eventually, he’ll focus on  repairs to his own home as well, but first things first. He’s back to working evenings at Liam’s bar as well - just as much a distraction for himself as to reassure Liam that he’s as well as can be managed. It’s not pleasant, and there are still moments where it feels like a wave of pain for all he’s lost is trying to drag him under, but he’s muddling through. He has to.

Even in his haze of pain and loneliness and apathy, it’s impossible to miss the changes that suddenly hit the Underworld, only days after the departure of his friends and family. Despite the red tint to everything and the overwhelming state of disrepair, there’d been something of an order to the underworld, even if just in the way it mirrors Storybrooke above. Now, however, it’s chaos, elements from different realms springing up willy-nilly - vines he recognizes from Neverland and streets turned to the distinctive golden paving of King Midas’ kingdom and Camelot’s stonework, all constantly shifting and changing from day to day and hour to hour. There’s no order anymore, no constancy - like whatever, or whoever, was controlling the Underworld has abruptly stopped doing so.

He goes to Liam’s out of habit, sidestepping yellow bricks as Wonderland mushrooms sprout from the curbs. Even after the disillusionment he’s suffered in the past several weeks where his brother is concerned, Liam is still older and possibly wiser, and it’s hard to shake centuries of instinct after all. He’s been down here longer, anyways, and information tends to trickle into the bar one way or another. It doesn’t hurt either that Liam has a clearer head to process things than Killian does at the moment.

Unfortunately, Liam doesn’t have any more clue than he does, and is far too concerned trying to cut down the Dreamshade bush that’s ironically decided to sprout just outside the bar to spend his own time digging further. He’s not without ideas of how to find out, though, and that’s almost as good.

“Your lad left his storybook behind, didn’t he?” Liam asks. Killian’s a bit too emotionally weary to bother with the correction - and it’s not strictly wrong, anyways. “I know it was writing itself before. Maybe it can tell you what’s going on now, too.”

It’s a brilliant idea - one Killian is shocked that he himself didn’t think of sooner. He’s choosing to blame the worry and distraction and melancholy for that. It’s easy enough to run back to the Victorian house and up the stairs to the room that should have been Henry’s, where the leather-bound volume waits patiently on the desk where the lad had left it before his departure. Part of Killian wants to look right away, but whatever is happening to Underbrooke effects Liam just as much as him.  Best they both find out together.

Liam has just finished with the damned bush when Killian gets back, not that he’s confident it will last. The place that the Dreamshade chose to sprout in this new, chaotic state of the realm is a little too ironic for Killian to believe it’s a true coincidence. At least it can’t poison anyone down here, not when all the inhabitants are already dead. He’s more than happy to set aside the gloves and pruning shears, though, to follow Killian back into the bar and take a look at the book.

“What have we got here,” Liam mutters as he flips to the last pages. Blurs of words and glimpses of colorful illustrations flash by before he lands on the desired pages. Both Killian and his brother fall silent in concentration as they read the words. Killian can only truly speak for himself, but he thinks they’re both anxious to find out what’s going on.

What they discover, however, is so much worse than Killian ever expected. 

He’d expected to find out that the portal had somehow skewed the environment of the realm of the dead, or that his and Emma’s true love test had set off some kind of delayed reaction. Hell, maybe even that they’d somehow managed to link all the different realms up above for some inexplicable reason, causing that to be suddenly mirrored down below. Somehow, the truth is simultaneously more ridiculous - and infinitely more terrifying.

As it turns out, Hades was able to turn his and Emma’s failure in their quest for the ambrosia to his favor. As it turns out, true love can do some pretty powerful things. And as it turns out, Hades has managed to untether himself from the Underworld, escaping to wreck his havok instead on Storybrooke and the world beyond with the Olympian Crystal at his disposal.

Killian can’t help the sense of growing horror as he reads about how Hades had collected one of Emma’s hairs from the loft and combined it with Killian’s blood from his stay in Hades’ torture chamber to create a vial of pure true love. Now, after the fact, Killian faintly remembers reading about the Crocodile doing the same thing with Snow and David, but had never stopped to think about all the things that pure essence could do. In that moment, though, both of them were so happy just to know that their love was true; would anyone truly think about the dangerous potential this love held?

They couldn’t have known, anyways. It’s a surprise to both Killian and Liam that Hades wasn’t ruling over the departed souls by choice, but by curse, tied to the in-between world against his will and longing to return to his home on Olympus. Perhaps with a stop to take over the Land Without Magic first. And with the combination of the Crystal and bottled true love, he’d done just that. Now, with its ruler having severed his ties to the realm, the Underworld was effectively left unchecked, the landscape trying to adapt to all the different souls within its bounds all at once and dissolving into chaos instead.

“Oh, this is bad,” Liam mutters as Killian frantically flips to the next page of the book. He’s desperate to see what’s happening, to see if everyone he loves is alright, but he’s met only with blank white paper and a rising sense of panic. If Hades is planning something, Emma, her family, and all their allies will undoubtedly try to stop him, putting themselves in grave danger in the process. God, he only hopes they haven’t already. The book is his only window into their world up above, and with the page stubbornly blank after detailing Hades’ appearance in Storybrooke, he’s in the dark.

“Aye, this this bad, Brother,” Killian agrees. They’re talking in circles just repeating each other, but what else is there to say? 

“Maybe it will all be fine,” Liam suggests unconvincingly. “He doesn’t need to necessarily be... plotting anything more than getting out of here. That’s possible, right?”

Killian doubts it - it seems out of character for the god who beat him into a pulp for daring to bring some semblance of hope here in the Underworld just to be in the Land Without Magic for a little sightseeing tour.

Before he can say any of that, however, King Arthur bursts into the bar, disrupting whatever semblance of peace they were pretending to possess and likely proving Killian’s point.

Instead, Killian groans, dreading the inevitable confrontation. “I need a drink,” he mutters, stalking around the bar. Unfortunately, he doesn’t move quick enough for Arthur to miss seeing his face.

“You’re dead,” he says, somehow managing to make the words sound like an accusation. “You’re supposed to be dead, I’ve seen the stone myself.”

“Aye, well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” Killian fires back. “Seeing as you’re the one who killed me.” He quickly throws back the drink he’s poured , not at all sure what he’s actually swallowing. It hadn’t mattered at the moment -  _ dark  _ and  _ alcoholic _ being more important in the moment than the specifics, and damn the fact that it’s not even two in the afternoon. 5 o’clock somewhere, or whatever absurd saying David and Leroy were so fond of. 

“That’s right, I did,” Arthur replies, sounding disgustingly almost  _ proud _ of that fact. What an arse. “But if I killed you… how am I still seeing you?” he ponders. Almost immediately, though, his expression turns from confounded to dangerous, and he harshly grabs Liam by the front of his crisp shirt. “What kind of trick is this?” he demands, shaking Liam (much to the other man’s consternation, if his brother’s expression is anything to go off of). “Tell me, demon!”

“If there’s any demon here, it’s you,” Killian bites back, moving back around the counter to try and separate the two men. 

“It has to be a trick,” Arthur continues to insist. “You’re dead!”

“Yes, well, if you’re here, so are you,” Killian finally snaps, finally reaching his brother and the disgraced King. Arthur’s grip loosens in his shock, making it quite easy to pull them apart. There were probably - okay,  _ definitely _ \- more delicate or considerate ways he could have gone about breaking the news, but it’s hard to care too much when faced with such an absolute  _ arse _ as Arthur.

Quickly, though, he pulls himself together and becomes confrontational again. Damnit. “You’re lying,” he hisses.

That’s somehow the words that mark the end of Killian’s patience. “Fine. Don’t believe me if you don’t want to, but it doesn’t change the fact: you are  _ dead _ . As a doornail.” And with that, he turns back to the book, ready to sweep it back up and get as far away from Arthur as possible.

Liam, for better or worse, is more understanding. “Look, what’s the last thing you remember?” he asks, managing to put on a patient facade. Killian will give him points for that, at least, even if he’s faking it - it’s more than Killian has managed.

“I was on the Troll Bridge in your  _ charming _ little town,” he snaps, “and then I was here.”

“Obviously, you’ve missed something in between,” Killian mutters under his breath, stretching over the counter to snag the bottle of whatever again. Liam flashes him an unamused look at that. Only when he raises his eyebrows, a move Killian first picked up centuries ago, does Killian understand;  _ maybe he knows something _ .

He tries a little harder to suppress his knee-jerk sarcastic reactions after that, even if Arthur does deserve them.

“Think harder,” Liam coaxes. “Did you see anything else in between?”

Maybe Arthur is even more childish than Killian thought, as Liam’s encouraging yet authoritative voice actually makes him settle into thought like a scolded boy, a frown marring his face with the effort. “There was a man,” he finally says, “a tall, thin man in a striped suit.”

“Hades,” Killian supplies impatiently, only to earn another dirty look from Liam for his efforts. Git. 

“Yes, that’s what he called himself,” Arthur agrees, less confrontational now that he’s concentrating. Thank the gods. “He was carrying on about having a realm to conquer, which of course I had to correct, since Storybrooke is  _ mine _ —” (Killian can’t help but snort at that, Liam’s disapproval be damned - it’s just too ridiculous) — “and then he…” Arthur cuts off abruptly, sinking into the nearest chair. It’s hard not to realize what the mad king remembered.

“And then he killed you,” Killian finishes. “Snapped your neck? Crushed your heart? Smote you with the Crystal? Regardless, welcome to Underbrooke.”

Liam huffs a bit at Killian’s indelicacy, but there’s a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as well. “Regardless,” he says pointedly, “what are we going to do about the Hades situation?”

“We?” Arthur scoffs. “I don’t remember agreeing to help you…  _ gentlemen _ with anything. We’re here, Hades is there; I don’t see any problem.”

Killian grits his teeth to suppress the urge to snap at Arthur. “The problem,” he grinds out, “is precisely that Hades is up in the living world. Where he has already killed you, and gods only know what other plans he has for the world at large. Tell me, don’t you have a pretty little wife in Storybrooke? How do you know something won’t happen to her if Hades is left to his own devices?” As Killian talks, he allows some of the old pirate drawl to creep back into his voice, a casual sense of danger he hasn’t had to call upon for a while. Frankly, he’s rather out of practice.

Thankfully, it still seems to work well enough on Arthur, who blanches at the words. “Fine,” he hisses. “What do you suggest  _ we _ do, then?”

That stumps Killian, leaving the three men in an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Liam cuts back in again.

“What about the pages?” he suggests. “Hades obviously didn’t want anyone looking at them for a reason. Maybe it wasn’t just about the Crystal - maybe the key to defeating him is in there too.”

“Yeah, but Liam… we don’t have those pages. You threw them down the well at the Apprentice’s house, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean they’re gone,” Liam points out. “Hades was very specific that they were put in the well - not destroyed in any old fashion, specifically put in the well. I’d bet you anything he got a hold of them fully intact, it’ll just be a matter of finding them. And that’s where you come in,” he shifts to address Arthur. “You’re some sort of monarch Killian’s said, or at least you were. Where would you keep the one thing that revealed your weak spot?”

“Right where I could see it,” Arthur replies immediately, like it’s obvious. And maybe it is - Killian can’t say he wouldn’t do the same thing.

“His throne room,” Killian says immediately. “It’s the only place that makes sense.”

“I agree,” Liam replies. “I say we get down to the library as soon as possible.” When Arthur makes no move to leave, both Jones brothers waiting to make sure that the disgraced king doesn’t try to run off or double cross them again - though Killian doesn’t know who exactly Arthur would betray them to in Hades’ absence - Liam gestures sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “After you, Your Majesty.”

With the two of them glaring at him, Arthur doesn’t have much of a choice, it turns out, and reluctantly sulks to the door. Killian chooses to believe that the end justifies the means.

It’s not exactly smooth sailing getting to the library and its elevator to Hades’ cavernous lair, as they’re accosted by an unexpected and unwelcome face.

“Where are you boys off to?” Cruella simpers, striking what she must think is a seductive pose. It’s not even remotely close to that; between the bizarre dye job and the disturbingly tight pants on her chicken-like legs, not to mention the enormous fur coat of unknown origins, that was never an achievable goal.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, madam,” Liam says in that one tone of voice Killian has long since learned is just a cover for his deep-seated irritation. It makes Killian wonder what kind of interactions his brother has had with the odious Ms. DeVil in his absence to earn such an immediate response.

“Well, as the new ruler of this realm, I’d have to disagree with that,” she says, poking a flirtatious finger into Liam’s chest. Liam looks like he’d rather break the damn thing off, if his stone face and flashing eyes are anything to go by. Killian might share that sentiment, or at least feel more confident in expressing disgust, if he wasn’t so shocked by her words.

“You are not,” he scoffs. “I’m fairly certain Hades is still the ruler.”

“Ah, but he’s not here, is he? He’s off gallivanting in the living world, the lucky bastard. What I wouldn’t give for a proper new coat, not that you can get one down here.” She’s got a point - about Hades’ absence, not whatever this nonsense is about outerwear. “I saw a power vacuum, and I’ve never been against a little sucking to get to the top,” she winks. As if this whole interaction needed another level of disgusting. That’s a mental picture Killian never needed.

“Not much of a kingdom,” Arthur mutters under his breath as he looks around at the disintegrating realm around them. This never was paradise, but something about the way beanstalk vines ramble down the street, uprooting paving stones and creating tripping hazards really drives that home.

“It’s Hell, what did you expect?” Cruella tosses back flippantly. “Not my problem.”

Killian and Liam share a look at that. There’s bigger fish to fry first, but they’ll need to do something about Cruella - and  _ especially _ about the chaos now running rampant in their environment - eventually. Even Arthur looks disgusted by her carelessness, and that’s really saying something.

“Anyways, I just wanted to warn you two to stay out of my way,” she continues blithely. “I remember hearing about the trouble you two gave Hades, and I won’t tolerate any of it. Unless, of course, you want to form some kind of stubble sandwich. Your new friend can join in too,” she nods to Arthur, “make it a double decker. There’s more than enough Cruella to go around, darlings.”

Killian has never considered himself to have a weak stomach, especially after a lifetime spent on the ocean waves, but those words have the impressive ability to immediately make bile rise up in his throat. Gods, he’s not sure anything has ever sounded more unpleasant.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Liam manages to somehow spit out past the disgust twisting his entire face. “Have a good day, Cruella.”

“Is she really the ruler of this place?” Arthur hisses as they walk away. He hadn’t been safe from Cruella’s wandering eyes and hands either, collecting an unfortunate slap to the arse as they’d walked past. 

“Gods, I don’t even know,” Killian huffs wearily. “Makes as much sense as anything else down here, I suppose. Come on, the library’s this way.”

Maybe Killian should feel more hesitance stepping off the elevator into Hades’ lair - after all, he’s about to reenter a place he’d rather never see again, a place where he’d been subjected to unbearable tortures - but he only feels relief. This conveyance is far too similar to the one that took Emma away from him forever, and with that event still far too fresh in his mind, he’d rather face any other memory, even if it’s a bad one.

“Keep an eye out for traps,” Liam warns before they properly venture into the throne room. “I don’t trust Hades to have left this place unprotected, especially if the pages are really here.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Killian mutters sarcastically as he wanders over to investigate a collection of shelves bolted into the rock walls. It’s not like Hades’ traps can do much - they’re already dead, after all. At this point, Killian can’t even bring himself to care too much about the potential for pain, as long as one of them succeeds in finding a way to stop the crazed god. 

Liam must have a sixth sense, however, because not even two minutes later, a deep growling echoes through the chamber, instantly setting them all on high alert.

“You didn’t mention anything about a hellbeast!” Arthur hisses angrily, the pompous prat. What a coward.

“Aye, well, I didn’t know there was going to be one,” Killian fires back. “I’m flattered that you think I know everything, but I assure you, that’s not the case.”

“Would you two shut up?” Liam whisper-shouts. Somewhere in the last few moments, he’s grabbed a fire poker as a makeshift weapon, though doubtless he’d rather have a sword in his hand. “Just find the damn pages, I’ll try and drive this thing off.” With those words, he darts into the tunnels stemming from the throne room to face whatever creature is supposed to be guarding this place. Personally, Killian thinks they should have offered Arthur up as bait, but then again, maybe Liam has the better idea. After all, at least Killian can be certain Liam won’t betray them or run off and leave them to their fate.

The search turns frantic with the sound of barking and growling echoing in the background. Killian abandons all pretense of careful searching, tossing things every which way and tearing the place apart in his effort to find the damn pages. You’d think there would only be so many places they could be hidden, but the possibilities prove to be endless when he’s standing in the middle of the room, looking around at all the little nooks and crannies. It doesn’t help to hear Liam swearing profusely at the far reaches of Killian’s hearing.

“Search faster!” he all but roars, darting back in to fetch a long log from where Hades keeps a woodpile by the enormous hearth.

In desperation, Killian turns to Arthur. It just doesn’t sound like Liam can hold out much longer. “Look, you may have been a shitty king, for lack of a better phrase, but you were a king,” Killian concedes. “If this was your throne room, where would you keep the book pages?”

“As close to me as possible,” Arthur replies without hesitation. “I’d want them within immediate reach in case something happened.”

“And what does that mean?”

Killian can practically see Arthur calculating as he looks around the now torn-apart room, analyzing each spot before finally settling. “The throne,” he decides, nodding towards the almost medical-looking chair Hades used for that purpose.

It takes a little tearing - alright, a  _ lot _ of tearing, Killian rather taking out his aggression on the leather upholstery - but sure enough, sewn into the side are the two pages they’ve been looking for. He almost can’t believe it, but right now isn’t the time to overthink things or even read through their find, not when he can still hear the hellbeast chasing Liam around the tunnels.

“We’ve got it!” he calls, ready to get the hell out of the cavern. Even if the ceilings lift to a tall vault, being this far underground still makes him feel claustrophobic, with or without demonic animals hounding them.

“It’s about goddamn time!” Liam shouts back, sounding audibly winded. “Get out of there, I’m going to try and trap this bloody dog in the throne room.”

It sounds a little bizarre for a dog to be chasing Liam, and a bit too on-the-nose at that, but there’s no time to think about that when he and Arthur book it back through the archway and down the tunnel towards the elevator, just before Liam rounds the corner with the beast hot on his heels. Somehow, his brother manages to lead the creature in and make a tight loop before sprinting back out again, Killian barely managing to slam and bolt the metal gate behind him. As it turns out, Liam somewhat understated the matter by saying a dog was chasing him, as three snarling heads snap at the bars. Technically, a Cerberus is a dog, he supposes. 

Arthur is less quick on the uptake though, peering with confusion and squinted eyes back towards the beast. “Is that…”

“Yes,” Liam says shortly, clearly in no mood to talk about the matter any further. “Let’s get out of here.”

Somehow, Killian manages to keep the missing pages in his pocket until the trio makes their way back to Liam’s bar, though he’s not sure how. He understands why - they can guarantee privacy if Liam closes the bar, unlike in the library, but that doesn’t make it any easier. At least the dimness of the elevator had made it easy to keep from caving; in the comparatively bright light outside, it’s much harder to hold out. Finally, though, they’re in the deserted bar with the doors locked and the book right next to its missing pieces.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” Liam prompts.

Seeing the words on the page is a shock though, sending Killian crashing onto a bar stool and leaving Liam rubbing a hand over his face.

“For the Olympian Crystal holds the power of life and death, mighty enough to destroy the very soul and obliterate a being into nothingness, mortals and gods alike,” Arthur reads, blissfully oblivious to how badly they’re all screwed. “Does that mean something to you?”

“It means that we delivered our only weapon right into his hands,” Killian says softly, trying not to sound quite as defeated as he feels. 

“Even if things aren’t looking good, Emma and her family still deserve to know their best chance of victory,” Liam reminds him. Killian kind of appreciates the attempt to stay positive and pragmatic despite it all, even if it’s a weak attempt. “Do you know how to get this to them?”

“Henry has his own version of the storybook back up above,” Killian relates, reaching for the object in question. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but I thought if I could somehow reattach the pages…”

“I’ll grab thread and glue,” Liam immediately offers, catching on quickly. It’s unnecessary, though; as soon as Killian places the pages back where they’d been removed, he can see the paper fibers somehow knit themselves back together like they’d never been torn out.

“What now?” Arthur asks as the book’s magic recedes.

This is the hard part - admitting that there’s nothing more any of them can do. “Now, it’s up to Emma and her family.”

Killian has the highest faith in all of them, and Emma especially, but he’s not afraid to say that this may prove the greatest trial of his long existence.

——— 

It’s a waiting game, after that. The ever shifting environment keeps him plenty busy, trying to reassure all the souls of Underbrooke and work towards helping them move on. Arthur is a surprising help, on both fronts; though Cruella is still technically the self-proclaimed ruler of this place, Arthur seems to be attempting to fill that role more responsibly. He’s already set up a committee at the library to help people find out their unfinished business, as well as establishing a volunteer force to report daily on topography and landmark changes, where portions of the Underworld may have suddenly acquired characteristics of the Enchanted Forest or Neverland or anywhere else. Stability is much needed at the moment, and the former king’s efforts prove to be a much needed beacon of order, no matter how personally surprised Killian is to see Arthur filling that role.

“It was foretold that I would unite a broken kingdom,” he tells the Jones Brothers one night at Liam’s bar. “It just now strikes me that maybe that wasn’t Camelot after all.”

Killian’s just settling in for the evening in the rickety old house after a long day helping souls uncover their unfinished business when it happens - a wave of energy and light sweeping through the town. He’s been around Emma and her family long enough to recognize a breaking curse when he sees one. Peering outside through the front windows, the red tint has disappeared from the sky and the Neverland vines retreated from the streets again, making the place look like a peaceful replica of Storybrooke.

It’s over.

The storybook lays quietly, conveniently on the coffee table, and Killian doesn’t waste any time reaching for the tome for confirmation. Quickly flipping through to the end, the proof is there on the page - the tale of how Regina, of all people, defeated the god Hades in retaliation for the death of her sister. Killian should probably feel worse about Zelena’s demise, her soul obliterated by the power of the Crystal, but he just can’t muster it; after everything she’s done and everything she’s put them through, especially Regina and Robin, dying to save her infant daughter is probably the best redemption she could have reasonably hoped for.

Turning back a few pages, he’s relieved to see that Arthur and Zelena are the only casualties at Hades’ hands. Killian takes a moment to pause on the illustration of Emma discovering the pages he sent, stroking the page tenderly with his fingertips. His poor Swan; even in the drawing he can see her red eyes. It breaks his heart, knowing they had true love in their grasp and didn’t know it until it was too late. He’d give anything to be with her, to hold her in his arms once more, to meet their little one when he or she takes their first breath.

Still, he promised Emma he’d move on, and he intends to keep that promise for her. It’s the last thing he can give her, really.

Though it’s late, he takes a final tour through town. It’s not the same as his adopted home in the upper world, but there are recognizable features - the corner where he’d meet Emma with coffee in the mornings, the cafe so like Granny’s Diner where he was welcomed to so many family dinners, the docks where he was teaching Henry to sail. Each landmark is imbued with not-quite memories.

His final, most private goodbyes however are confined within the walls of the house that will never be a home without Emma by his side. 

Will he remember all this, Killian wonders, when he’s moved on? He hopes so, never wants to forget a single second of the the far-too-short time they spent together, but who knows what paradise - or damnation - might grant him. Killian tries to imprint ever memory contained in the house into his very soul, both old and new. He relives their first  _ real _ kiss one last time as he trails his hand along the patio furniture. The kitchen now holds the precious memory of learning of their child for the first time, the living room evoking visions of Henry scribbling frantically with his newfound author’s powers. Despite the memories of her time as the Dark One, Killian makes a special stop at the photo in the front hall of him and Emma dancing at the ball in Camelot, attempting to catalog every detail. She’d been so out of her element, but so beautiful with her long trailing sleeves and flowers in her hair. She’d looked every inch the angel,  _ his _ angel, and Killian hadn’t been able to help but imagine another white dress and another event sometime in their future.

The upstairs bedrooms hurt the most, each full of unrealized potential and obliterated futures. The nursery with its pale yellows and greens looks ready for its tiny inhabitant, but he won’t be there to bring their little Bean home, will never rock his babe to sleep in the cushioned rocking chair. The only nights he’ll ever fall asleep with Emma in his arms in the big comfy bed in the airy master bedroom have already passed; neither of them will ever know that comfort again. He’ll never get to see the way she looks when real sunlight falls upon her face in that bed, blonde hair scattered across the crisp white sheets. Henry’s room looks ready for the lad to move in, but he’ll never get to see posters on the walls and comic books scattered on every flat surface. It’d drive Killian crazy, but he’d welcome even that if it meant more time with the ones he loves. The possibilities of what might have been seem infinite in these rooms, even more than in the rest of the house, and Killian’s sorrow at not realizing any of those daydreams is just as endless.

All too soon, Liam is at his side when Killian is fingering the intricate carvings of the crib. He hadn’t even noticed his brother come in; Liam has had a key from almost the first day, and Killian was too lost in his thoughts anyways.

“It’s time, Killian,” he says, more gently than Killian remembers hearing since they were both children. He knows his brother is right; with Hades defeated and all his loved ones safe, there’s nothing keeping him here any longer. Tonight’s goodbyes have all been leading to this moment. “Are you ready?”

“No,” Killian replies honestly, “but it’s time all the same.” It’s never going to be easier, he knows, but he’s taken the time he needs to say goodbye. There’s no sense in delaying the inevitable.

Killian had expected that they’d make their way back down to the cave Liam had brought him to before, but instead his brother leads him to the beach. When Killian asks why, Liam just shrugs.

“Something just feels right, I suppose,” he replies. “I can’t really explain it.”

Considering they’re looking to move on from their unfinished business to something better, Killian supposes that’s fitting - just following right feeling wherever it leads. He’s curious to note, too, that this stretch of beach appears so similar to the shore he and Liam washed up on after the sinking of Captain Silver’s ship, where Navy sailors discovered them straight out of indentured servitude and their lives were changed forever. This is another turning point in their lives - or afterlives, more like; it only seems appropriate to come back to this same place. 

The stretch of sand seems never ending, but somehow, the monotony brings Killian a sense of peace. It breaks his heart to know that his family, his love, his children are so permanently out of his reach, but Emma’s last request had been for him to move on and find peace. He finds a semblance of comfort instead in knowing that he’s following her wishes.

As that settles into his soul, a warm glow of light engulfs their stretch of shoreline.

It’s well and truly time to move on, and Killian has finally accepted that.

———

As the blinding light recedes, Killian’s eyes can discern through the haze what appears to be a classical temple, complete with marble columns and open walls. It’s a small comfort to see Liam still standing beside him. In a realm of unknowns, his brother’s constant presence has a calming effect, Killian only barely resisting the urge to grab at his hand like they’re children again. There’s only a cloudscape beyond the columns, oddly enough, but that’s a question for another time. For the moment, Killian is more distracted by the young man in draped linens standing up to greet them.

“Liam and Killian Jones,” he declares, “We’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t aware I had an appointment, Mister…?” Killian trails off. Liam elbows him in the side for that; the words were most likely saucier than strictly polite, but sarcasm and wit have always been Killian’s defense, and he’s far too old to abandon it now.

The young man smiles in amusement, though, making Liam’s fretting for nothing. Until, of course, he opens his mouth. “I am Zeus, King of the Gods,” he tells them.

Oh.

“Pardon my brother, sir,” Liam cuts in with a pointed look at Killian. “He often speaks before thinking.”

“Worry not - I already know, and did not take any offense,” the god assures. He’s so much younger than Killian expected, practically still baby-faced, but he supposes that makes sense. Zeus was always fabled to be the youngest of his divine siblings after all. “We’ve seen what you two have accomplished from here on Mount Olympus. You’ve done us a great service, ensuring the downfall of a tyrant. You have my thanks for that.”

(Personally, Killian thinks that if the Gods found Hades to be such a tyrant, they should have done something about the matter themselves, but it’s no his place to say. There’s no sense arguing with the god who’s thanking you, anyways.)

“It was our honor, sir,” Liam replies, bowing his head respectfully. Killian follows suit a second later; his older brother always was the more proper one. 

“As a token of our gratitude,” the god continues, “I’d like to offer you both a choice. If you’re ready to move on, I’d be happy to personally guarantee you both a spot in Paradise. It’s the very least we can do, after the great service you’ve done us all.” 

It’s been years since Killian thought himself worthy of eternal reward, and he must admit, he’s sorely tempted to accept the offer. He’s still a pirate, though, and the pirate within him wants the best offer he can get - if not everything offered. “A choice, you say? And what’s the other option?” Sod Liam if he thinks he’s being rude, Killian wants to  _ know _ .

“The other option is a second chance. We’ve seen how hard you and your family have fought to bring you back to land of the living, and I’d like to offer you the chance to do just that, Killian. And you as well, Liam,” he adds, nodding in the elder Jones’ direction. “That would reset the slate,” he warns. “Guaranteed paradise is a one time offer. Who knows what you both might get up to in the next fifty, sixty years.”

(Killian thinks he sees the god wink in his direction on that statement, which is very… disconcerting. If valid. Still; the gods aren’t supposed to be nearly this… teasing, and Killian isn’t sure he likes it.)

All the same, his heart leaps with hope at Zeus’ offer. “You can do that?” he asks, trying not to sound too eager, trying not to let his hopes soar too high if there’s going to be untenable strings attached.

“Of course I can do it,” Zeus replies -  _ scoffs _ , if you can imagine a deity doing such a thing. “I’m all-powerful. This may not be something we offer routinely, but it’s certainly within my powers. That is, if you want it.”

“Yes,” Killian rushes to reply, the time for hesitation long past. “Yes, that’s all I… yes. Yes.” In a rush, all the dreams he bid farewell to come flooding back. He’ll get to properly move into the Victorian home with the picket fence with Emma, get to see Henry become the talented writer Killian can already see budding… Gods, he’ll get to meet his child: hear their first cries and see their steps and find out whether they take after Emma or himself. He’ll get to buy Emma a proper ring and grow old together… He’ll get a lifetime. That’s all he’s ever wanted from the first time Emma kissed him and changed his world. 

It suddenly sinks in, what Zeus is offering, that Liam could be granted a second chance as well, and that… well, that’s more than Killian ever even thought to dream. When he whips his head around to face his brother, though, Liam wears a gentle and apologetic smile.

“I think I’ll take your offer of Paradise, sir,” he tells Zeus, still looking at Killian. “After 300 years, I’m ready for a rest.”

“Liam…” Killian tries to start, but his brother just clasps him by his shoulders. 

“I know what you’re going to say, Little Brother, what you’ll try to convince me of. But I’m tired, Killian. Maybe I could take the offer, try again, but I’m tired. It’s been so long, and I’m ready to move on. I never was particularly good with change anyways,” he jokes. It falls flat though, considering that Killian can see traces of tears at the edges of Liam’s eyes.

“You could try, though,” Killian replies, almost pleads. He’s just been reunited with his brother again after all this time; it seems impossible to say goodbye again so soon.

“Maybe, or maybe not, but it’s time, Killian. It’s time.” Stepping forward, Liam draws him into a tight hug. Killian tries his best to catalog and remember every moment, knowing this is their last hug for… Gods only know how long. Likely a very long time. This will have to tide him over for all the years to come, so he imprints ever sensation of the embrace - the exact way Liam smells (clean soap and salt air, like always, but now with a trace of the spicy rum scent he must have picked up at the bar, all meshed together in a scent that feels like childhood and comfort and  _ home _ ) and the exact pressure of his arms and that little divot between his shoulder blades and spine that Killian has always slotted his own arms into when hugging his brother, taking comfort in just that little height difference that lets Liam lean his head on top of Killian’s and makes him feel protected. It’s not enough time, never enough time, but it will have to be enough.

When Liam draws back again, he clasps Killian by the shoulders again, smiling and making sure to meet Killian’s eyes. “I am  _ so _ proud of you, Little Brother. You hear that?  _ So _ proud.” Killian smiles weakly in return, nodding as best he can until Liam seems satisfied. “You’ve got a beautiful family to get back to, with a loving lass and a son and new baby. Don’t you dare waste a single minute fretting about me.”

“But we won’t be together,” Killian reminds him. “That’s all I wanted, for so long. I still want that. Are you  _ sure _ you don’t want to come with me, try a life back in Storybrooke? Otherwise, I suppose I could —”

“Absolutely not,” Liam interrupts, not even letting Killian finish his thought. “Don’t be daft.” His smile softens the words. “I’ve lived all the life I was meant to live and then some. You, on the other hand? You still have a lot to live out. We’ll meet again, hopefully many many years in the future,” he laughs, “and you can tell me all about my niece or nephew. Remember, Liam is a  _ fantastic _ name for either sex.”

Killian laughs a watery chuckle at that, but nods all the same. “I’ll miss you, brother.”

Liam draws his head down for an affectionate kiss to the crown of his head. “And I you. But I promise you won’t regret it.”

Zeus must sense a shift in the conversation, as he steps back into the conversation again at that moment. “Are you ready for your reward, Killian Jones?” He asks.

Liam’s the one who answers, though, his own voice firmer as Killian still tries to put on a brave smile. “Aye. He’s ready.”

With a wave of his hand, Zeus conjures a warm circle of light to appear behind Killian. Liam squeezes his shoulder one last time as Killian turns to face the portal to his future. All he has to do is walk forward into the light and he’s got a whole life ahead of himself. Before he does, though, he twists around one last time to face his brother. “I love you, Liam.”

“I love you too, Little Brother,” Liam responds.

And with that, Killian walks forward into the blinding light.

———

It might be hours, or days, or years, but when the warm glow of Zeus’ gift recedes, Killian is standing in the cemetery.

The first thing he notices is the unmistakable beating of his own heart. After so long with nothing but a hollow emptiness sitting in his chest, a physical representation of so many lost hopes, it’s jarring to feel it thudding away again, the rhythm almost painful in its sudden return. There’s no mistaking what that pumping muscle means - that this is real, this is a second chance.  _ He’s alive _ .

At a small distance, he spots a small figure sitting in front of one of the gravestones, the stripped scarf and tousled hair easily identifying them as Henry. As Killian moves closer, he spots his own name on the stone. Before he can speak, however, he hears Henry talking, apparently to the marker.

“I wrote your story last night,” he tells the stone monument, “about everything you’ve done since you got to Storybrooke.” Looking closer, Killian can see that the lad holds his beloved storybook cradled in his lap. “You saved me, you know, when you came to Neverland. I know you’d probably try to deny it if you were here, but that’s the way I see it. I think you saved Mom too, just by making her so happy.” Henry pauses for a moment, and Killian almost jumps in, but the boy continues before he gets the chance. “I just wanted to let you know that it’s over. Hades is dead, or banished, or something. We’re all safe. I know you promised Mom that you’d move on, but I bet you wouldn’t without knowing we were safe, and we are now. It’s okay, if you’re ready to move on.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, lad,” Killian finally cuts in, unable to hold back any longer. Henry twists his body around, eyes wide with shock at hearing his voice again, before scrambling to his feet in a mess of gangly, growing limbs, sending the book flying in the process. Still, Henry waits, not rushing over to him as he might have under other circumstances. Killian understands; it’s hard for him to believe this is possible either.

“Killian? Is it really you?” he asks, the eagerness in his voice tempered by hesitation - hesitation Killian is more than happy to dispel.

“Aye, lad, it’s me,” he smiles, blinking back the wetness starting to gather in his eyelashes. 

That’s all the validation Henry needs as he rushes to wrap Killian in a tight embrace. He’s gotten so tall, his boy, Killian thinks as he clutches Henry tighter, now able to comfortably rest his head atop Henry’s without crouching nearly in half to do so. Somehow, in the mess of these past six months, Killian didn’t notice it. It’s easy to vow to pay closer attention now, knowing he’ll get the chance to do just that. Probably break the vow too, as he knows how busy life can get. That’s okay; he can afford it now.

“I think there’s still a few more chapters to write in that book of yours,” he chuckles as they pull away from one another. Henry’s grin splits his face nearly in two, wider than any smile Killian’s ever seen on the boy’s face. His own probably looks similar, if the almost painful tugging at the corners of his mouth is any indication.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Henry mutters into Killian’s shoulder, before suddenly pulling back with a confused look on his face. “Wait, how  _ are _ you back? No, double wait, does Mom know you’re back?” When Killian shakes his head, Henry abruptly springs away, only to start tugging Killian by the arm back towards the street. “We’ve got to go, right now, then! C’mon, Killian, she’s going to be so happy!”

“Slow down, lad,” Killian chuckles. “Don’t forget your storybook.”

“Who  _ cares _ ? This is more important,” Henry insists, though he still lets go of Killian to go pick it up before running on ahead again.  “Are you coming?” He demands impatiently, jumping on the balls of his feet.

“Lead on, my boy,” Killian laughs, “lead on.”

It’s not a long way back to the house, especially at the brisk trot Henry sets for them. Storybrooke’s a small town anyways; there’s only a few neighborhoods to choose from, and all of it very close together. Truthfully, the walk probably seems longer than it actually is due to Killian’s own eagerness to reunite with his Swan, to hold her and kiss her and know he’ll never have to let go again. Henry provides a play-by-play of the confrontation, but Killian barely hears most of it, simultaneously giddy and nervous at the prospect of this reunion. This isn’t at all what he imagined when he set out from the Underworld with his brother this morning, but it’s so much  _ better  _ \- a dream come true, in every way - and he’s elated beyond any words to describe it.

The house here in Storybrooke (the  _ real  _ Storybrooke, not the convoluted version that Hades had created in the Underworld to attempt to mimic the genuine article) still looks a little like it hasn’t been lived in for far too long, but the difference here is that it also looks  _ loved _ . In the Underworld, the Victorian he’d chosen for them had always looked run down and a mere inch away from collapsing around his ears. Here, the house looks strong and sturdy, merely in need of sprucing.  _ Good bones _ is the phrase he thinks he’s heard Dave use before. Maybe it’s silly, and maybe it’s just a product of Killian’s renewed hope alongside his new lease on life, but he can look at the house in front of him and imagine it with a swing in that big tree and toys in the yard and a couple of rocking chairs on the front porch. In short, he can see it as a family home for years to come, just as he’d hoped back in Camelot when he and Henry had first started scouring the classifieds. 

He has to trot up the front stairs two at a time to catch up with Henry after his little reminiscent moment, the teenager too impatient to wait. “Mom, you’ll never guess what happened!” Killian hears him call through the house. 

Emma comes around the corner from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel and saying something to Henry. Killian doesn’t catch the words at all, too distracted by the sheer beauty of the scene before him to even move inside the doorway. Even in leggings and a t-shirt, she’s stunning, the most welcome sight he’s ever seen. Her shirt stretches just so over the bump of her stomach where their child grows, and it’s all so beautifully domestic, so perfect in its sheer mundanity that it nearly brings tears to his eyes.

There’s no time for that, though, as Henry gestures in his direction. The dish towel drops to the wayside, easily forgotten, as Emma looks up to meet his eyes.

“Killian?” she whispers with a note of disbelief in her voice.

That easily kicks him into motion, and Killian crosses the threshold in a handful of strides to meet Emma and cup her cheek to draw her into a kiss. It’s fierce in many ways, fierce with passion and longing and all the what-might-have-beens that have a chance to be again, but the desperation of their last exchange has disappeared. Now there’s just lips meeting, first in a deep press of lips and then in progressively more gentle exchanges until they finally draw apart. They probably gave Henry quite the show, but Killian can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s holding everything he ever dared to want within his arms.

“How are you here?” she asks through the laughter and the tears - happy tears, this time, tears of joy that he’s found his way back to them against all odds.

“Zeus,” he laughs right back. “A bloody god sent me back to you, back where I belong. Liam and I were ready, and when we tried to cross over —”

“I don’t care,” Emma interrupts, pressing a flurry of kisses to every inch of his face. “You’re  _ here _ , and I love you, and —”

“I love you too,” he vows, over and over again. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I’m never saying goodbye ever again.”

“You’d better not,” she tells him, huffing out a happy little laugh. “We’ve got plans for you, me and Henry and baby girl.”

Killian sucks in a breath. “Baby girl?”

“Yeah,” Emma nods right back, tears spilling from her eyes. “I went to the doctor when we got back, and when he did the ultrasound… baby girl. We’re having a baby girl.”

“A  _ girl _ ,” he breathes in wonder. As if this day isn’t amazing enough.

“So no more heroics, alright?” Emma teases. Her tone is joking, but her eyes show her to be at least half serious. “She’s going to need you around. Henry and I too.”

“I can’t promise never to put myself in danger, especially if it’s a matter of protecting you or Henry or the Bean,” he says, moving her hand to rest over his heart,  “but I promise never to leave you again if I can at all help it. I vow it, Emma.”

“Good,” she says, so reminiscent of that moment so long ago at the town line as she and Henry drove off into the unknown. That was the first time he allowed himself to embrace the full extent of his feelings and have hope that she might feel the same. “Welcome home, Killian.”

Welcome home, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a happy ending, didn't I? And I delivered. All we've got left is a short, fluffy epilogue that I'll put up in the next couple days. It's already completely written!
> 
> Thanks to all of you for your lovely comments! Keep it up. This can also be read on tumblr, where I'm @shireness-says. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who wants fluff?
> 
> Enjoy!

His daughter enters the world at 2:03 on a Saturday morning, and makes all the clichés true.

She’s somehow the smallest thing he’s ever seen, her first cry the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, and it’s by far the proudest moment of his life when it’s the sound of his voice that is able to calm his tiny, stressed and disoriented infant as the nurses clean her up and tend to Emma. All at once, it’s like there’s a corner of his heart that he never knew existed, that had been shut up for years, that is suddenly there and open and exploding with love for this tiny human being he’s known for a matter of minutes. In short, he’s emotional and entirely unprepared and ecstatic. 

They name her Charlotte Leigh Jones, her middle name for his brother (for even if Emma and Liam hadn’t entirely seen eye to eye, she knows, has  _ seen _ how much he meant to Killian). Her first name is one of the very few that was both classic enough for Killian and modern enough for Emma. Whale wants to keep her in the hospital for a few days just to be sure that nothing’s the matter, between her Dark One conception and prenatal trip to the Underworld, but as far as they can tell, she seems to be a perfectly healthy infant - seven pounds, one ounce, and nineteen inches long, with one hell of a set of lungs. She has a tuft of dark hair on her head and eyes that aren’t quite his blue and aren’t quite Dave’s, that he thinks will one day be Emma’s lovely green. Poor lass has his ridiculous pointy ears, but Emma’s chin and a nose that still might be either one of theirs. Her head is somewhat pointed, but he’s been assured that this will go away, and frankly, he’ll adore her and find her perfect regardless. Overall, Killian thinks she’s the most beautiful child he’s ever seen, and he still can’t believe that such a little beauty is  _ his _ .

(When they finally lay the baby down and Emma finally gets to sleep sometime around 3:30, he has to take a moment in the attached bathroom to have his own private breakdown. After so many years in the darkness, after dying killed - twice - and sent to the Underworld, it’s so hard to believe that he can deserve this, that he’s not going to wake up from what must be a wonderful dream. It’s not just him anymore, and he’s terrified – terrified that he’ll somehow hurt his precious lass, that he’ll fail Emma and Charlotte, that he’ll fall back into the darkness again. It’s all so much, and four months was not nearly enough to prepare for this, and he can feel the panic mounting – 

But then he hears Charlotte start to quietly fuss in the other room, and it’s suddenly so easy to set his fears aside in favor of soothing any worries or problems his little love might have.)

The morning had been full of visitors, nearly from the moment visiting hours had opened. Henry had been thrilled of course, and Killian now has more photos on his phone of Henry holding the baby (of his two children, of his  _ son _ holding his  _ daughter _ ) than he ever thought he would. He wasn’t surprised to see Snow tear up, but Dave had been much the same, turning into a cooing fool when the tiny girl is placed in his arms. Then again, David has fawned over his daughter every moment of her existence; it’s probably not shocking he’s already started doing the same for his little granddaughter. Since then, it seems like half the town has trooped through. Granny had stopped by with a soft knitted blanket, much like Emma’s own, but edged in green. Belle promptly burst into tears when they asked her to be the godmother; in only another two months, he’s sure they’ll be back here to welcome Belle’s own little one. Regina looks oddly comfortable with Charlotte for someone known as the Evil Queen, even affectionate; then again, she does have years of experience caring for Henry and now her niece. Robin himself is as happy as if the baby were his own (“Oh, you and Vera shall be the best of friends, isn’t that right, Princess?”). There are far too many dwarves visiting for Killian’s personal taste, and he suspects Emma’s as well, but there is something entertaining about the look of panic on Leroy’s face when he takes a turn holding Charlotte. It’s the little amusements in life.

But now, it’s just him and his little girl in the hospital nursery while Emma gets some much deserved rest under her still cooing father’s watchful eye. He knows it’s only a temporary lull; Snow had left on a tear to apparently bring half the baby’s wardrobe back and probably the house along with it, and would likely be back in the next couple hours, and Granny had promised to return later with Charlotte’s name stitched on the blanket she had made. Now, however, is a quiet moment to realign himself with his new reality, and get down to the business of getting to know his tiny girl. Of course, the matter is somewhat hindered by her determination to sleep in between meals, but for now, he’s content to simply have her little body propped against his chest, hand stroking her back and stump supporting her little bum. She’s still so soft and squishy, and the tubes and wires monitoring her little body scare him to pieces, but he’s also discovered in the past hour that she already sneezes (babies  _ sneeze _ , how did he not know babies sneeze, and he can’t help but find adorable how her entire body jerks with the force of that effort while still fretting about whether the blanket is covering her properly), she tries to burrow into his chest the same way her mama does, especially now that he’s unbuttoned his shirt to give her contact with his warm skin, and apparently is very taken with his pirate’s luck if her surprisingly tight grip on the chain is anything to go by.

Even as he ponders, he can feel her waking up. Emma just fed her not too long ago, so hopefully she’s simply got her nap out finally and the attention from her loving papa will keep her content. It shouldn’t be that hard; so far, as much as anyone can tell from knowing her a matter of hours, she’s a quiet little thing, largely content to simply observe all the faces and things happening around her and try to soak them all in and only fussing when she’s hungry or needs changing. Even then, it’s only a series of snuffles instead of the outraged screaming Killian remembers from babysitting Vera and little Neal, like she doesn’t want to make too big a deal about the whole thing.

As she starts trying to squirm against his chest, Killian shifts Charlotte to be cradled in his arms instead of propped on his bare chest, and is rewarded by her eyes searching for him. He knows it’s too early to get a smile out of her, but he’s already so excited for that milestone. For now, just watching her eyes settle on his grin feels like the greatest treasure.

“Hello, my darling,” he whispers down at her as his thumb strokes her chubby little cheek. “I’m so happy you’re here. Papa loves you so very much.”

She’s his second chance, his happy ending, and Killian doesn’t intend to waste a single moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Well, at least in this story. I've got so many headcanons about this verse. Come ask me about what happens to Charlotte (Charlie) Jones.
> 
> Thanks to @snidgetsafan for betaing this all! I'll write you happy stuff one day, I promise.
> 
> Also posted on tumblr - I'm @shireness-says and always desperate for attention. Feed me.
> 
> Thanks for reading this and loving it! I've treasured every comment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be posting on the 13th. 
> 
> If you liked this, please consider leaving kudos, comments, or other feedback - I love hearing from you guys! This will also be posted on tumblr, where I'm @shireness-says and perpetually desperate for notes.
> 
> I hope you liked this - can't wait to share the next part with you!


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